


Chapters Closed

by Krizlynn



Category: One Piece
Genre: A lot of reminiscing tbh, Alternate Universe - High School, And then old Zosan, Cute scenes tho ngl, Fluff, I tried to make this a representation of the song by BUMP OF CHICKEN, Kissing, Light Angst, Light whole cake arc spoilers, M/M, Romance, Sanji backstory spoilers, Sanji blushes a lot ehe, Smol Zosan, So does Zoro tbh, Time Skips, after high school, i finished this on christmas merry christmas, really cheesy, there's so much fluff homygod, uhhh blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krizlynn/pseuds/Krizlynn
Summary: A high school reunion seven years later brings Sanji and Zoro back together; two idiots who, as seniors, never revealed their true feelings for each other.“You smoke now.”“And you apparently lost half of your vision.”The time lost between them is something that can never be taken back, and Sanji wonders—through a series of memories and reenactments of those moments—if their chapter really has closed.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 79
Kudos: 375





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I just... ugh I watched the One Piece video from Hungry Days (if you haven't watched it, omg WATCH IT) and was so inspired to make a high school au :') Please enjoy, and just know that I love Zosan and the crew.
> 
> Also it’s my first non-canon au!!

High school reunions were bittersweet things.

Especially the one Sanji just stepped into.

As seniors at Romance Dawn high school, they’d all decided to have a reunion once they became 25—meaning 7 years from when they graduated. The result was this barely-thrown-together party, its location being the high school’s gym, and the decorations limited to balloons that popped the second idiots like Luffy came in as well as badly taped streamers on the wall. The tables that only fit so many were of the portable kind, strewn randomly across the floor with foldable chairs that only allowed half of the lot to sit down. The apparent food bar only had cheeses and vegetables, as well as juice and a fuckton of alcohol. It represented their grade so well that it almost made Sanji laugh.

As he walked further in he eyed the friends that were meeting up with those that have drifted away, and people who were checking each other out, trying to put names to faces and exclaiming to their buddies that “so-and-so has changed so much!” or “when was _insert name_ hot?”. Sanji realized that the people laughing together and recounting their past years with pride was the sweet part of the event.

The bitter part was the realization that some people didn’t make it so far, news travelling that accidents happened or financial lives plummeted to the point of no return. There was also the factor that some people just stopped being friends with others, and Sanji had to hold back a frown when he saw how girls whispered about the redhead sitting at Luffy’s table—Nami, the person that Sanji worshipped for most of high school. He knew it was because of trivial things, like jealousy of Nami’s vastly growing business and her popularity in the city. Those people used to be Nami’s friends, and Sanji felt an awful taste in his mouth at how quick they turned their backs on her.

But life happened, he guessed, and as he walked up to Luffy’s table he realized that a certain marimo had yet to show up. The bastard probably thought it wasn’t worth showing up to this reunion, if he was any bit the same as he used to be.

He made eye contact with Usopp and the man quickly exclaimed his name, turning everybody’s attention to him.

“Sanji!” Luffy proceeded to yell, basically jumping from his seat to wrap him in a hug. The chef realized that Luffy seemed to have barely changed, other than getting a little more muscle in certain places. A smile automatically made it onto his face when Luffy asked when he’d next make him food, as he’d always been weak to Luffy’s good vibes—like everyone at the table.

They weren’t all best friends, but had become friends because of Luffy. The first year of Sanji’s high school was spent with Usopp, and in the second year Usopp introduced him to Luffy, who immediately clung onto him like super glue. From there Luffy made him acquaintances to Franky and Robin, the polar opposite friends who liked mechanics and books. He loved Robin then and he loved Robin now, wherever she was— _probably travelling in a different country_ , he expected. He was then introduced to Nami (who he also immediately fell in love with) and the person he regretted meeting the most: Nami’s best friend, Zoro. At that time he’d only ever heard of the obnoxious dumbass who slept in every class and had real swords in his locker, and their first meeting was up to par with the terrible imaginations he’d had of the guy. Their relationship set off with an explosive first fight, where Zoro insulted Nami and Sanji took offence, getting further riled up when Zoro called him an ero-cook (he was going to be a _chef_ , for fuck’s sake), resulting in a fight that actually gave them a black eye each. They both didn’t have good first impressions of each other, but the rest of their high school they were practically forced to hang out. Through that forced relationship, Sanji managed to get feelings that, even now, still popped up in his mind once in a while.

After saying greetings to Franky, Brook and Chopper, he took a seat on one of the empty chairs that Luffy stole from some other table, observing everyone closely. He’d seen Usopp last week so he wasn’t surprised by the man’s longer hair, and he sometimes ran into Franky at the grocery store so his insanely broad shoulders were no new sight. Brook and Chopper were in the same group as Usopp (friends that he continued to closely socialize with even after high school) so Brook’s nearly dead complexion and Chopper’s older features were familiar to him.

He didn’t have contact with either Luffy, Nami, Robin, or Zoro (the last two having not shown up yet, if they were even showing up) and he realized that Nami was absolutely gorgeous back in the day, and she’d only become more beautiful with time. Her hair now seemingly reached her back and Sanji had seen earlier: her waist had somehow become even more pinched, figure absolutely perfect for a 25-year old. Sanji already had hearts in his eyes and Nami hadn’t even said hi to him yet. He’d already checked out Luffy earlier, so he immediately set to starting a conversation with Nami.

“How are you doing, Mademoiselle?” Sanji questioned, and he vaguely heard Usopp complaining in the background that Sanji only ever focused on Nami, ignoring it promptly to hear Nami’s answer.

“Great! My bank is looking good nowadays.”

 _Ah,_ Sanji thought wistfully, _Nami’s love of money is wonderful._

The rest of the table settled into their own conversations as Sanji and Nami continued theirs, and the chef was even a little surprised that Luffy didn’t immediately get jealous of the two of them.

“Though I’m a little pissed,” Nami spoke, “Because a certain idiot hasn’t shown up yet and he still owes me two thousand dollars.”

“Two thousand dollars?” Sanji questioned, curious but trying his hardest not to show it too much.

“A mixture of the costs of a flight to Japan and expenses for an injury,” she explained, and Sanji’s mind didn’t know what to focus on first.

 _Japan? Injury?_ He had to hold back the multitude of questions that were threatening to spill out of his mouth.

“Well, what do you expect,” Sanji tried to joke, ignoring the signals in his mind telling him to figure out more about all he’d missed, “It’s Zoro.”

“Yeah, and I bet he got lost on a straight path,” Nami rolled her eyes, “He said he was coming, by the way.”

No, Sanji’s heart did not just speed up.

“I even told him the time half an hour earlier than it actually was, because I knew he’d get lost on the way.” Sighing, Nami took a sip out of her cup and shrugged, “So, I’d say you have to wait another half an hour before he gets here.”

The blond let out a chuckle, leaning back in his seat, “Why would I be the one waiting for him? I’d expect Luffy to be more excited.”

Nami just gave him a pointed look, but the moment she opened her mouth to refute his statement, Luffy yelled out in joy.

“Robin’s here!”

All attention was focused on Robin now—Franky’s loud ass _Super!!_ was hard to talk over either way—and Sanji nearly sighed, secretly thankful for the bullet he managed to dodge.

The rest of the evening continued, and 8 PM turned into 9 PM before Sanji even knew it. He enjoyed the company of his friends, and he swore that he wasn’t waiting for—something. He wasn’t waiting. And yet, of course, Sanji’s eyes flit to the door every now and then, contradicting himself every time that someone didn’t walk through the door, feeling disappointment well in him with every passing minute. Zoro never appreciated such meet ups either way. Though, it would be weird for him to go against his word if he truly did tell Nami that he was going. The bastard kept his word so often that it actually baffled Sanji.

He was starting to remind himself of the old times, where Zoro was always the last one to show up at every party held at Luffy’s place, and he’d subconsciously wait for the idiot before making his favourite dishes, details not going unnoticed by people like Robin and Nami. He was just glad they never mentioned it back in the day, but it seemed like they’d had a change of heart, seven years later. Nami seemed ready to beat some sense into him earlier.

Sanji held back a sigh, trying and failing to immerse himself into Robin’s travels across the world. It was interesting, but with the itch of wanting to smoke and wanting to see a certain marimo, he couldn’t quite pour all his attention into her stories like everyone else.

It was sometime after 9, perhaps 9:20—9:30, when his eyes did the routine sweep of the place and his gaze stopped dead on green hair.

He could feel his heart immediately start to pound in his chest, and he wondered if Nami next to him could hear the erratic sound over all the yells. The hair disappeared behind Kuma’s big ass body and Sanji resisted the urge to reposition himself to find that damn hint of Zoro again. Too bad only half the people were sitting down, so losing the mosshead behind the crowd who lost himself on simple paths was the easiest thing.

Sanji assumed that it was just his imagination, turning back as to not seem suspicious for staring in that direction for too long, tapping a finger on his thigh absent-mindedly. He couldn’t concentrate, and he wondered if it was even a good idea to show up—no, wait, he took that back. He liked being with his friends but—

Yeah, fuck addictions but he needed to smoke. Sanji stood and turned so quickly, wanting to escape into the cool night with a good puff of nicotine, but that action only led to him running straight into someone.

Hands grabbed his shoulders faster than he could even express a reaction, and he swore he knew those hands just moments before he looked up and confirmed that, _yup_ , it was Zoro that he’d seen earlier. It was also Zoro that he’d bumped into.

A Zoro that now only had one eye.

The new revelation shocked Sanji into silence, but it didn’t last long as Zoro spoke up easily.

“Still always getting in my way?” the greenhead questioned, and he released Sanji when the man got a hold of himself again, seemingly unaffected by anything, as usual.

“Fuck you, marimo,” Sanji answered as if on instinct, realizing that even after all these years, it was just as easy to fight with the bastard.

“Zoro!” Nami and Luffy exclaimed at the same time, and the lines that came next were opposites, one being: “I haven’t seen you in forever!” and the other being: “Give me back my money, you punk!”

“Yeah yeah, later,” Zoro brushed Nami off, and smirked when he watched as Luffy stole a chair from right under someone just to give to Zoro, receiving a wack on the head from Nami for rudeness.

Zoro sat next to Franky who was opposite to Nami, and he easily got into conversation with the bigger guy.

“Sit down, Cook-san,” Robin’s smooth voice invited, and Sanji wondered what he’d just looked like, staring after Zoro like a lost child because—he realized he was the only one really affected by the time lost between the two.

Forgetting about his smoke break, he slunk back into his seat, questioning and wondering why Zoro didn’t seem to care whatsoever. Of course, the mosshead was always like that but... after seven years? He couldn’t say anything more to Sanji than some insult about getting in his way?

He spent the next few minutes just observing, from Zoro’s leather jacket haphazardly thrown over a black t-shirt to the eye that’d once been there, noting that Zoro had changed greatly. His hair was more grown out before, but was still considered short to anyone who didn’t see his high school cut. He looked bigger, in physique and in presence, but his voice sounded the same. His smile was also identical to the one Sanji remembered, the guy laughing at some dumb story Usopp was telling about Luffy.

Sanji felt mentally sated for the time being, less anxious about everything but still, he realized, craving a smoke. He stood, more gentlemanly this time, and told Nami his intentions, grabbing the jacket he’d thrown over the back of his chair to shield against the night chill. Hands in his pockets, he walked to the side exit, opening the heavy door to the cold air and the school’s parking lot.

While moving to the side of the door he fished out a cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he threw his jacket over his shoulder, noting that it wasn’t as cold as he’d remembered it to be. He must’ve just gotten hot in the gym, as the air actually felt comforting to him.

Leaning back, he lit his cigarette, staring at the black sky and the little dots of stars.

In truth, Sanji had no real reason to be upset with Zoro’s lack of attention. It was to be expected, either way.

The way they’d parted was quite simple. On their last day of school, at the very same parking lot he was currently standing in front of, Sanji had given Zoro his new phone number.

“ _Take it. Who knows when a mosshead like you is going to be lonely_ ,” Sanji had said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “ _I’m upgrading phones, and I thought I might as well change numbers. Don’t try my old one anymore because it’s this one now_.”

Zoro had merely let out a tch and grabbed the slip of paper, shoving it into the pocket of his trousers. “ _I’m sure you’ll be the lonely one, love cook_.”

“ _It’s fucking chef, bastard_.”

The memory made Sanji smirk, but it quickly fell when he thought about what happened after. He remembered watching Zoro turn to get to his car, and calling out—in what he recalled as a completely normal voice, and not a clingy one—

“ _Call me_.”

“ _I will_ ,” Zoro had answered without turning, lifting the hand that held his keys as a sort of goodbye wave.

He didn’t call Sanji. Ever.

In the past seven years, he hadn’t called Sanji once, and the blond knew it was probably because of something dumb, like Zoro forgetting to call for the first three months and deciding it wasn’t worth it anymore. To add onto that, he seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Usopp, Chopper and Brook had no idea where he’d gone, and Sanji didn’t keep in touch with Luffy and Nami. He also didn’t want to ask, just in case it made him seem desperate.

So he just kind of let go; told himself it didn’t matter anymore, and it really didn’t, for a period of time. He had more important things to focus on either way, like achieving his dream as a chef and opening his own restaurant. Even now he was only halfway there.

But, Sanji admitted, he wondered what would have changed if Zoro would have just called _once_. Just once.

Because, he was pretty sure, high school him was in love with Zoro.

He tapped off the crusted part of his cigarette and at that moment, the door next to him opened, the sliver of light making a path on the ground and forwards. Sanji turned his head and saw Zoro step out, immediately spotting him.

When the door closed behind him they were both engulfed in darkness again, and he turned back to the view of the sky, head leaned against brick and cigarette finding its place in his lips once more.

Zoro stood there to his right and didn’t say anything for a bit, until he broke the silence with a curt:

“You smoke now.”

Of course, it was one of the first things Zoro would talk about. Mentally scoffing, Sanji answered, “And you apparently lost half of your vision.”

“That’s not good for you,” Zoro decided to say.

Sanji laughed, mostly to himself, and then turned to gaze at Zoro. “And losing an eye isn't?”

The mosshead grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “Just another step to becoming the greatest swordsman.”

Sanji couldn’t say anything in response to that, frankly speechless with that boyish smile directed at him, and the refreshing info that Zoro hadn’t given up on his dream—one of the reasons Sanji used to love him so much.

They fell into a silence that was uncharacteristic for either of them, leaving Sanji a little antsy. He wanted to talk...about everything. He didn’t know where to start, and he was afraid that he’d just turn into a mess of words if he didn’t gather his thoughts quickly enough.

Thankfully, Zoro spoke up before he could make a fool of himself.

“So, are you coming with?”

Sanji raised an eyebrow, tossing his three-quarters finished cigarette onto the floor, crunching it under his shoe, “And where would we be going?”

“Further into the school,” Zoro said easily, as if the other doors weren’t all locked. But Sanji understood seconds later, because he hadn’t forgotten their little revelation during their second year.

He shrugged, trying to seem at ease even if he was sure being in the school with Zoro again was just going to bring him back to all those times.

“Let’s go,” he said after a moment, and Zoro started off by walking past him, turning the corner of the school to get to the church that was connected (yes, they went to a catholic school, as surprising as that was). “Can’t believe we used to do this whenever we wanted the gym to ourselves to spar.”

“We wouldn’t be delinquents if we didn’t,” Zoro replied, and Sanji felt the corner of his lip quirk up, shoving his hands into his pockets as he quickly sidled up beside Zoro. He felt as if they were kids again.

For now, he was just going to forget about his unresolved feelings. He wanted to walk in the school with Zoro once more before deciding anything more.

"You mean _you_ wouldn't be a delinquent. I never was one, you know. You're just a bad influence."

"Oh yeah, because you spent most of your days with a spatula shoved up your ass when you followed ladies." 

That was a dig on how Sanji used to be in the Home Ec. club. _And_ his love for ladies. 

"I wasn't the one swinging swords around in school."

They made it to the church’s backdoor, where they easily entered the code onto the old buttons that looked as if they were wearing out with time. It was a gamble to try a code that was 7 years old (Sanji once again thanked Robin for being the one who even figured it out) but thankfully, when Zoro pulled the handle down it unlocked like all those years ago.

“Oh hell yeah,” Sanji said, and then he heard the familiar sound of the door being wrenched open from its spot—probably one of the reasons they were still able to use this door; no one else used it because of how hard it was to open. But Zoro had always had incredible strength, and it was just another thing that made Sanji feel something.

They slipped into the church’s lobby and Sanji slowed down in his reminiscing, watching Zoro’s back and figure with the shimmery light of the moon from the stained glass up above. He remembered that exact sight, but Zoro of that time wasn’t as big, and Sanji remembered that he felt a lot more attainable; compared to now. He shook the thoughts away and focused on his path to follow Zoro, who had made it to the door leading to the hallway.

The thing with that hallway was that the doors were locked if one went from the school to the church, but not the other way around. It was always their way to sneak into the school, of course after passing through the pitch black hallway. They’d never bothered to turn on the lights for the short path, and now was no different.

The moment Sanji was engulfed in darkness he remembered what happened in between these two exact walls, and he felt a blush rising from his chest upwards. They were not practicing christian values.

He didn’t think about it too long lest things became weird, and it was soon after that Zoro pushed open the doors to their school. When Sanji made it to their school’s familiar hallways, spotting the art class off to one end and the band room on the other, he felt it all come back to him in waves.

Nostalgia took over the entirety of his thoughts, and he felt a strange longing to go back to those days; where all he had to care about was grades, clubs, and his unrequited love.

It was different from now, where he was trying to put himself into the professional world of chefs. He also didn’t have to care about if he’d be able to pay next month’s rent without his guardian’s help, taxes, family problems, and whether or not this mosshead was alive or not. At least he now had that last one figured out.

He wanted to throw himself back into the person he was before, thinking about everything that passed as his fingers glided over the white brick walls of their school. To the dumb and entirely too emotion-driven teenager he was, completely smitten by some idiot he fought with every other day.

Sanji kept on wishing, of course, that they could go back to what they were before. But it was different now. Zoro wasn’t focused on him as they went through the school, as he’d once been. He wasn’t promising Sanji that he’d beat him in their next sparring match—wasn’t promising _anything_. Not his kisses, his stares, or even his mere presence in Sanji’s life.

Some chapters in life just closed with unsatisfying ends.

And no matter how hard someone tried to pry it back open, they’d only realize that there were no more empty pages, and the ink that rested on every piece was irreversible.

Sanji was in the midst of doing just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not completed yet. There are more parts to come :)  
> I know, not a one shot and not a canon au? Who am I??? But anyway, I hope you look forward to the next chapters! They only need editing


	2. How We Became

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Sanji and Zoro meet each other. Immediate fighting occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really enjoyed writing this. It's almost making me consider just making a normal Sanji and Zoro high school au but I just ughhh commitment where? I hope you enjoy!

Sanji didn’t like the vibe of this guy.

Three golden earrings hanging from one ear; short, mossy green hair; an unreadable expression on his face. There were also rumours that floated behind this guy like moths to a light. He was labelled as everything a delinquent was, always sleeping in classes, receiving terrible grades, scaring off girls, and beating people up in dark alleyways. It was also said that he kept real swords in his locker, but because he threatened the principal, he was allowed to keep them there.

Roronoa Zoro.

It was a name that all students at Romance Dawn knew, just because of the terrible connotations that came with it. Sanji had been in one of the guy’s classes for the past two years (it had been History for both years) but they sat on opposite ends, never so much as glancing at each other.

He’d always thought that he’d rather not involve himself with someone who was dumb enough to think it was cool to be a delinquent, but because of the strange turn of events called Luffy, he was soon forcibly introduced.

"I am _not_ going to let you eat the food I'm practicing with. There are people I can give it to—"

"Oh look, it's Nami and Zoro!"

"Would you _listen_ to me, Luffy?"

Luffy didn't care about anything Sanji was saying, running off in the direction of his friends. Sanji begrudgingly followed behind, annoyed gaze settled on someone's cafeteria food that he found more interesting than whatever Luffy was about to say.

“Guys, this is Sanji! He makes the best meals and is going to be my personal chef,” Luffy introduced, and Sanji turned back, about to interject when the shorter kept talking.

“And this is Nami, her dream is to draw a map of the world—“

“You didn’t need to say that, Luffy,” the girl laughed, obviously a little uncomfortable with her dreams being revealed to a mere stranger.

The second Sanji looked closer at Nami and after her adorable laugh, she was all he could see for the next few minutes. His brain immediately screamed _CUTIE!_ and he gave a bow, completely ignoring everything that was said by Luffy next.

“And this is Zoro, the greatest swordsman right now.”

“Sanji, at your service,” he introduced himself to the redhead, taking Nami’s hand to give it a kiss on the back.

He heard the delinquent click his tongue, saying something about a weirdo being in his presence but Sanji promptly ignored it, too focused on the gorgeous woman in front of him.

“Which class is your next one? I’d like to escort you there, if you’d be so kind as to let me,” Sanji offered, straightening himself.

“Ahh,” Nami said unsurely, “I’m sorry Sanji-kun, but this guy over here still owes me money and he was supposed to get me a drink before lunch ended.”

Sanji’s gaze went to the person Nami pointed at, suddenly remembering that he’d also been introduced to mosshead over there. He stared at the green-haired man in disdain, wondering why Nami was hanging out with a brute like him.

“ _Hah?!_ ” Zoro exclaimed, unfolding his arms when he heard Nami’s words, “I don’t owe you any more money!”

“Actually, you _do_ , $200 in fact. Interest was a thing, remember?”

“You raised the interest, you witch!”

 _Witch?_ Sanji repeated in his mind, wondering what bit of Nami resembled a witch. The words didn’t seem to bother Nami, but Sanji suddenly came to the conclusion that there must be a reason why Nami hung out with someone like Zoro when she was getting insulted in such a vile way.

She was being threatened, behind the scenes.

He couldn’t leave a damsel in distress _alone_.

Sanji was lifting his leg before he even needed another second to think about it, bringing it down with the intention of smashing the mosshead’s brains.

Instead of doing that, however, he felt a hand grab his descending ankle, stopping him mere inches away from the crown of his target’s head.

Sanji and Zoro shared a moment of held eye-contact, the delinquent seemingly assessing the situation to see what Sanji meant with the kick, the air buzzing with electricity.

Zoro pushed Sanji’s leg away, eyes staring menacingly into Sanji’s.

“What the fuck is your problem, ero-cook?”

“You don’t treat ladies that way. And it’s _chef_ , you bastard.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “As if I’d ever treat witches the way you do, _cook_.”

Sanji grit his teeth, and before anyone could say anything else, he went to kick Zoro again. This time, it didn’t end with just Zoro pushing him away. The green-haired man fought back, to which Sanji dodged or blocked.

It only took a few hits for them to assess each other’s strength, the blond admitting that mosshead was actually as strong as rumours made him seem. Once the first few test hits were over with they went at each other seriously, causing a commotion that attracted many people.

Sanji, soccer player and women lover, was fighting with Zoro, delinquent and swordsman of the school.

They were fully intending to beat the other easily, but they both underestimated each other, however, because it ended with Sanji giving Zoro a nasty kick in the face, and Zoro punching his unrevealed eye with what seemed to be his entire body weight in one fist.

The next day, Sanji was entirely too aware of Zoro’s presence in his class, and the two accidentally locked eyes near the beginning, turning away with a _tch_ from both of them.

They were sporting a black eye each.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry. Yes, this was supposed to only be 3 chapters, but then I realized the middle chapter would’ve had 10K words so I’m... splitting it up. Expect a ~6-10 chapter book :) Also the next chapters won’t be as short I promiseee! I hope that doesn’t disappoint anyone aha and dw the updates will be pretty soon and close together! I can’t not publish things I’m excited about aksjdidn please please leave a comment if you like this whatsoever, I just love hearing y’all’s opinions


	3. Forming an Opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through being forced to hang out with Zoro, Sanji begins to realize that there’s more to him than the delinquent label.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3!! I sincerely hope you guys are liking it so far... I'm sorry if I ever disappoint you aha all this Zosan stuff is new territory to me. Also also, I switched up the order of some things that happened in canon, but it's all pretty minor so... yeah. Hope you enjoy it!

If there was one word Sanji could use to describe Zoro, it was _idiotic._

“Go Zoro!” Luffy exclaimed, fist pumped up in the air as everyone else screamed, cheering for the match that was unfolding right before their eyes.

Nami was screaming something about how he better beat his opponent unless he wanted his debt to rack up even more from her, and Usopp was just screaming in general—from fear or as some form of distraction for the opponent, Sanji was never quite sure.

All that was repeating in his mind was: _idiot, idiot, idiot,_ idiot.

Because, the thing was, Zoro’s opponent wasn’t some common folk that Sanji could beat (‘cause let’s face it, he’s _way_ stronger than Zoro… at least in his mind). Zoro was facing off against _the man_. The only person who had relative popularity in their city, and it was _Mihawk_.

Fucking Dracule Mihawk.

And if Luffy wasn’t lying—which he probably wasn’t because that’s _Usopp’s_ specialty—then Zoro was facing off against his own father. For the place of best swordsman.

A loud smack took Sanji out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the current scene in front of him. Mihawk had just hit Zoro for the umpteenth time, his kendo sword landing a hit right in the side.

The match had been decided yesterday, apparently, when Zoro had suddenly said that he wanted to beat Mihawk. Luffy had said something about how it was because he’d told Zoro he was going to become the best fighter in the world, and Zoro had been inspired. It was a funny story, but considering the fact that it was _Luffy_ and Luffy had told Sanji to be the cook for their “gang”, it wasn’t surprising that Luffy told Zoro he had to be the best swordsman if he wanted to keep his role as the captain’s right-hand man. That conversation apparently sparked whatever this was—a gathering of people in their city’s kendo club arena.

They were standing behind wooden banisters, the only thing keeping them from invading into the fight out on the square of wooden floor. The lights up above were bright and yellow, almost simulating the morning sun that would’ve shone down on the two if they were fighting outside. Both Zoro and Mihawk were dressed in dark blue kimonos, kendo swords in the older man’s hands and real swords Zoro’s because the city didn’t want to authorize a fight where a father would actually kill his son with real swords.

But Sanji knew Zoro had wanted Mihawk to use real swords. Something about how it was unfair. As he’d seen at the beginning of the fight though, Mihawk had said something about how Zoro wasn’t ready for it, only provoking the dumbass to make the first move.

It didn’t matter, in the end. With only a kendo sword, Mihawk had easily deflected all of Zoro’s strikes, even getting in some hits himself.

Zoro was struck again, sending him back a few steps as his feet stumbled. The mosshead was sweating already, panting around the handle of his white sword. Sanji knew this was going to go nowhere, already planning to leave after another couple of hits. He didn’t understand why the mosshead would stand the humiliation. Not only was he using three swords versus Mihawk’s _one_ , but they were also real. It was embarrassing and humiliating. Sanji didn’t know why the idiot hadn’t surrendered yet to save him from more mockery.

In Sanji’s mind, he had decided that Zoro was all just brute force and stubborn mindset. There was nothing else about it. 

The fight barely progressed, the only thing changing being the amount of bruises that would form on Zoro's skin the next day. Mihawk hadn't even broken a sweat yet, nor really moved from his spot. And Zoro was seeming to be in bad condition. 

The two other delinquents of the school, Johnny and Yosaku, were screaming about how Zoro should start fighting seriously, but Sanji knew he was already doing that. After all, they hadn't spent the first week of knowing each other fighting without Sanji gauging what Zoro's strength was—and though it was true that Zoro hadn't put all of his utmost strength into the fight yet, Sanji knew it would make no difference. The gap in experience was just too grand.

He turned to leave, shoving his hands in his pockets just as the crowd whooped loudly. The sound made Sanji curious, and he looked behind him once more to see what other type of damage Mihawk had done to Zoro, only to see the mosshead seemingly gearing up for a final attack. Mihawk’s back was facing them, which gave Sanji a good look at the expression on Zoro’s face.

And it was still stupid. The expression in his eyes conveyed everything that he was: a dumb barbarian with only strength and stubbornness that’d one day get him killed—but there was also determination. And, Sanji realized, hope. Hope, a fighting spirit, and trust in his skills. Even after getting hit so many times with attacks that Sanji winced at, he was still betting everything on this one attack.

At that, Sanji grit his teeth, taking the few steps forwards as his hands grasped the banister. He yelled, fed up with the stupid expression on Zoro’s face and the way that it birthed something in Sanji akin to _admiration_.

“It's simple—just abandon your ambitions!" he exclaimed, because it was better than _this_. Better than getting beat up in front of everyone for a title that was near impossible to achieve.

Zoro didn’t hear. Wouldn’t hear anything, with the concentration going into the attack that, one second later, launched.

The blond’s fingers tightened on the banister just as Zoro’s feet landed in the space behind Mihawk, his one eye barely catching how two of the three crafted sticks of metal flew into the air, landing on the wooden floor with a clattering that left the room silent. It might’ve just dawned on the rest of the watchers how unbalanced the fight was.

Zoro’s attack did nothing.

Sanji knew that was the extent of Zoro’s strength, and he felt _frustrated_ , now not because of the fact that Zoro was fighting a losing fight, but because Zoro hadn’t _won_.

He’d somehow, in the few seconds Sanji was supposed to be leaving, made Sanji want him to win.

He shouldn’t have stayed. The humiliation was too much. The second-hand embarrassment.

Sanji couldn’t see Zoro’s expression anymore, the man’s eyes hidden by the shadow of his bandana. But he did see how Zoro straightened and turned around, facing Mihawk who was staring at him with a look Sanji couldn’t quite understand. It seemed almost like appreciation, which only confused the blond.

And then Zoro did what Sanji would always remember him for. He put his white sword back in its scabbard, holding it in one hand as he then opened his arms, revealing his entire front to Mihawk. From here Sanji could see the way his fists were clenched, both around nothing and around the body of his sword. It showed Zoro’s own frustration at the situation, and yet told a story about how he wasn’t giving up yet.

The next moments passed as if they were being shown behind a while film, barely registering in Sanji’s mind. Mihawk said something that he couldn’t hear, and then Sanji watched, almost tantalized, as the legendary swordsman struck Zoro with a real swing. 

The force of it was so strong that it sent Zoro back, the mosshead finally collapsing on the ground from the weight of all the hits. The winner was decided, and perhaps it was because of the shock of Mihawk’s strength or because of Zoro’s show of willpower, but the crowd was still in silence, even as Mihawk threw his kendo sword to the floor. 

Moments later, Zoro's own sword raised, the blade shaking because of its unsteady hold, and yet it stayed upright.

“Luffy!” Zoro suddenly called, and then Sanji watched how Zoro’s other hand came up to his forehead, tears spilling out of his eyes that sparkled from the light above. “ _I will never lose again._ ”

The idiot #2 next to Sanji laughed, seemingly fine with the fact that Zoro’d just gotten beaten so terribly in front of everyone, answering the call with: “That’s fine with me!”

Sanji couldn’t understand why Zoro would subject himself to all of that, just to lose like everyone knew he would. Why he’d waste his tears on something like this, when the results were clear as day since the beginning.

It made Sanji feel irritated and exasperated; all synonyms of the word _frustrated_ , and then—a little _breathless_.

If there was one word Sanji could use to describe Zoro, it would flat out be the word _idiot_.

-

The days after Zoro’s defeat were filled with a relatively silent Zoro—one that had a deep purple bruise that spanned from his shoulder to his hip in a diagonal line. It was quite the sight, especially when Sanji stepped up onto the roof during lunch and saw the dumbass working out without a shirt like usual. And in front of the ladies, too.

He stopped for a millisecond at the sight of Zoro, still working hard even though he’d been defeated just the other day, no doubt injuries still burning with every movement. Sanji grit his teeth, taking his eyes away from the mosshead as he turned to his real reason for coming up to their hangout spot. _Nami_.

Sanji tried to tell himself that Nami—sweet, incredibly ruthless Nami—kept Zoro around for a reason. Surely, it wasn’t because she actually _enjoyed_ being in the presence of this blockhead. They didn’t do much in each other’s presence other than bicker about some debt that was supposed to be paid.

But, to Zoro’s credit, the other day she’d reassured Sanji that, 100%, she was hanging out with Zoro out of her own will. Luffy even attested to that. So Sanji had been trying to give up on the entire idea, and when he’d said that Zoro replied something about him finally getting over his delusions (that comment definitely started a fight).

Time flew like it had all the other years of school, but the difference was major. Sanji was hanging out with different people after all, the biggest change being that every Friday was apparently “force Sanji to cook for the group” day. He’d slowly learned everyone’s favourite dishes, and would silently implement them into certain days just to watch the smiles on their face. He even did it with the rice balls that the mosshead enjoyed so much.

After all, they were forced to hang out constantly, always being invited to the same meet-ups and parties. The first time someone revealed their favourite dish, Nami had added that Zoro liked rice balls the most, which—surprisingly—made Zoro look somewhat embarrassed. It wasn’t a bad look on the marimo, and Sanji admitted that he’d sometimes make the dish just to see how everyone exclaimed that it was Zoro Day, and tease a Zoro that would eat with a frown on his face. (But Sanji was well versed in customer’s reactions to the food. Zoro’s frown would soon disappear after the first rice ball, and he’d enjoy himself like every other day which, admittedly, made Sanji feel proud. The dish was so simple, too, and yet Zoro seemed to enjoy it to the fullest.)

It was safe to say that through those events, Sanji got to know some facts about Zoro that weren’t included in the rumours. Some of those included:

1\. He kept the swords in his locker for convenience because he was apart of some professional sword-fighting team, and the reason he was allowed to keep them there was because of a special request from Mihawk.

2\. Zoro had never actually beaten up students in the alleyway. There was a time (that Luffy recounted while laughing) where a gang mistook Zoro as an enemy because of his green hair and tried to attack him. “ _It’s the natural colour,_ ” Zoro had replied when Usopp asked him why he’d dye it such a bright colour.

3\. He was hopeless with directions.

Sanji didn’t figure this out from someone’s stories, but because of the constant head of moss he’d spot at the end of school wandering around. Sanji was a teacher’s pet in his English class, because it was a sweet lady who was the teacher, and though he’d never try for someone 35 years old, he treated all women fairly. He’d often be seen running some errands half an hour past a school day’s end.

Every time he was going to hand papers into the office or the like, he’d find Zoro somewhere on the 2nd floor, where his English class was.

The first few times he just ignored it because he could care less about that idiot, but then it started to become strange.

So he asked Nami about it.

“Oh, Zoro? Don’t worry about it,” she had waved her hand, dismissing the conversation entirely.

It became somewhat routine; finding Zoro chilling on the 2nd floor after school. He started to wonder if maybe he was waiting for someone—maybe there was some raunchy teacher x student thing going on right under Sanji’s nose.

Needless to say, his curiosity got the best of him.

Sanji peeked around the corner one day, spotting the familiar figure walking in the opposite direction. “And why are you still here, you bastard?”

Zoro stopped, and then took a pause, as if wondering if he should answer or not. Soon enough, he said: “I’m lost.”

“You’re—what?”

“I can’t find the stairs.”

“This is our school. Like, the one we’ve been going to for the past two years.”

“And I _said_ , I can’t find the exit, ero-cook. I’m usually not on the second floor.”

Sanji felt his eyebrow twitch when he heard Zoro calling him cook again, a plan formulating in his mind. “Just wait there. Let me put these boxes away and I’ll help you. But you’ll owe me, of course, for saving you.”

Zoro grit his teeth, “I’ll just find it myself.”

“No! Stay there.”

Zoro frowned, but he eventually submitted, planting his feet in the middle of the hallway and staring at Sanji with that frown.

Sanji continued on his way, and in truth, he was actually planning to put the boxes away and then just leave the school. Payback, for calling him cook all the time and getting on his nerves.

But something stopped him just as he closed the door of the classroom, looking back in the direction he came from.

He’d always been a bit of a softie for hopeless things.

And Zoro, getting lost in their own school—Sanji huffed out a laugh. It was a little cute, for someone like that mosshead.

 _Ah damn_ , Sanji thought, _I must be going crazy because of that old man back at home_.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way back to where he’d told Zoro to wait, a laugh of incredulity threatening to leave his mouth again when he saw that Zoro had not moved an inch—even the frown on his face was still there.

“Come on,” he tilted his head, “It’s this way.”

-

It was strange, seeing Zoro standing in the hallway the next day. School had just finished and Sanji spent a few minutes cleaning the classroom, but was let out pretty early either way. He spotted the marimo waiting there, and wondered who in the world he’d be waiting for—since he should be searching for the stairs instead of standing.

He decided not to dwell on it, attempting to just pass by... until Zoro got in his path.

Raising an eyebrow, he said more than questioned: “Marimo.”

“I owe you.”

“Uhm, yeah, but I don’t need you to do something right now...”

“I’d rather not have a debt to you for longer than a week.”

Zoro was weird. _Must be some swordsman secret,_ Sanji thought.

“Okay,” Sanji conceded, deciding to take up Zoro’s offer right now. He thought about it for a second, wondering what would embarrass the idiot standing in front of him. Eventually, he settled on: “Say ‘ _thank you, Prince_ ’.”

At those words, Zoro’s brain seemed to malfunction for a few seconds, and Sanji felt a smirk growing on his face. The humiliation he’d see on the marimo’s face was all going to be worth the troubles he’d had these past few weeks.

The mosshead seemed to steel whatever determination he needed to get through this task, and looking as serious as ever, he said:

“Thank you, Prince...”

Sanji grinned.

“... _of Dumbass Kingdom_.”

“You—!”

They broke out into an immediate fight afterwards.

-

Soon after, they’d somehow reached an agreement. Whenever Zoro was lost on the second floor, Sanji would help him out and get something in return.

It baffled the learning chef that Zoro was never capable of remembering his way back to the stairs, but he was starting to feel a little grateful for it. He’d already asked Zoro to do random tasks during the day, going up to the greenhead’s desk and telling him to, for example, clean his shoe or something.

And Zoro would do it, which brought the other kids to shock and left dropped jaws around them. But there was always something Zoro countered Sanji’s requests with. The second he was out of his debt he’d make Sanji angry all over again—in that case spitting on Sanji’s shoe the second he’d dusted it off.

The two of them got into fights so often that the principal had to consider moving one of them to a different class.

“ _That wouldn’t even help_ ”, Sanji’d heard their teacher saying to the principal, “ _They’ll find each other anyway_.”

That was true, sort of. The teacher made it sound too romantic.

So they stayed in the same class, going through the same routine even with people prepared to stop them before fights broke out, like Usopp who was sick of his Zoro bullshit and Nami who knocked them on the heads more often than not.

But it’d keep going, so long as Zoro kept getting lost.

“I usually just jumped out of the windows,” Zoro explained one day, and Sanji choked on nothing, understanding why people called the guy a brute. “But I was caught two weeks ago, and they said they’d take my swords if I kept jumping out of the windows. So now I have to actually take the stairs and I don’t know where they are.”

“Why don’t you just memorize where the stairs are?”

“I do. The walls and corners just move.”

Sanji held in a laugh, leading them to the stairway. “I’m sure it’s just something wrong with your brain.”

“Fuck you.”

They reached the ground floor, and Zoro now seemed to know where he was going.

“Huh, is that something to say to your saviour?” Sanji teased, knowing the other guy hated being the damsel in distress.

“Yeah, _fuck you_.”

Sanji rolled his eyes.

“Listen here you punk—“

“Thanks,” Zoro suddenly interjected, and then he was walking out the exit near the stairs, not turning back.

Sanji sighed. At least the guy had enough manners to say thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ' 3 '  
> So how was it?? High school Zosan honestly make me uwu Thanks for reading and I hope you have a great day! Leave a comment if you actually liked it!


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji may or may not realize that Zoro's actually... not bad.

Life was moving on as usual, and Sanji got into fights and chased after girls daily. Things seemed to be moving fine, until Sanji reached a week in life that he remembered now as a time where he’d nearly hated Zeff, and started to see Zoro differently. 

That week started with a bad Tuesday. 

Sanji was not having it, that day.

He’d gotten into a fight with the old man at home, one about how his cooking skills weren’t getting acknowledged enough. _The damn old man keeps calling me eggplant and demeaning my skills,_ Sanji thought angrily. What truly hurt him was that he’d said Sanji wouldn’t be able to handle the professional world, no matter how hard he tried.

Something about talent over how much he practiced.

So Sanji was peeved the whole day, foot tapping the ground all throughout classes, gaze thrown out the windows as he clenched and unclenched his pens.

It didn’t help that Nami was absent, and the green bastard kept looking at him.

The end of the day came by too quickly, meaning Sanji would have to go home and see the dumb fart. He tried to prolong it with his errands but was eventually shoo’d away by even his favourite teacher, making his mood even worse.

And he’d also have to pick up the damn marimo. At that point it was habit and almost duty that he’d go with Zoro to find the stairs, after two months of doing just that. So Sanji just about stomped around the 2nd floor, looking for Zoro just to get it over with. He was getting ready to deal with the old man back at home.

He stopped short when he saw Zoro half sitting on one of the window sills, completely still as he stared out the window.

Usually the directionally-challenged idiot wandered around aimlessly but today he was sat in one place, seemingly waiting for Sanji.

Weird, weird and _weird_.

Sanji didn’t particularly... mind, though.

“Oi.”

Zoro‘s head turned, earrings moving with the action.

“Let’s go.”

So the two found the stairs like all the days before, except there were no degrading comments being thrown about. Sanji was too caught up in his own thoughts and Zoro seemed to notice. When they reached the ground floor and left out of the entrance Sanji was just ready for Zoro to leave like usual, and he did—at first.

As Sanji stood at the gate willing himself to go and resolve the unresolved, Zoro turned.

“Shit cook."

Sanji tensed up at the words. That hit a little too close to home for him, that day. 

He grit his teeth, feeling anger flare up in him after hearing those words and seeing Zoro's nonchalant facade—which somehow pissed Sanji off to no end. And he wouldn't usually start a fight with Zoro after two words (maybe four words) but he wasn't in the mood to take any bullshit, and was frankly already provoked. So fight he did. 

“You, _fucking,_ “ Sanji took the two steps separating them, using that momentum to kick his leg out, “Asshole.”

He was fully intending to aim for Zoro’s side with all of his strength, even if he knew it was just going to get blocked or dodged.

Except, it didn’t.

And Zoro went straight for the floor, rolling a little at the force of the impact, raising dust into the air.

Sanji stood still, shocked and a little confused that his kick actually connected, and not because it was blocked.

“What—“ he took a mini step towards Zoro’s direction just before he saw the man slam a palm into the ground, hoisting himself up.

“That was for my debt,” Zoro answered, spitting out what must’ve been some of the gravel, “So now let’s fight for real, dartbrows.”

Sanji was taken aback for the first few seconds, but he never backed down from a fight—especially after having Zoro call him shit cook and dartbrows in the span of five minutes. He accepted the offer easily, and the fight was started without another thought. This time however, it was without an audience, without anyone to stop them, and with the afternoon sun shining down on them.

Partway through, Sanji realized how much fun he was having, completely forgetting about his dilemma as he dodged a now smirking Zoro’s hit, a grin on his own face as he stepped behind him and kicked the guy on the ass. The mosshead’s smirk wasn’t there anymore.

“Not sure if this is such a fair fight,” Sanji brushed off the sleeve of his uniform, “How many times have I hit you now?”

Zoro patted off the hands he used to steady himself earlier, to save him from a fall, “Only once more than the number of times I’ve beat you, swirly.”

And it was true, because Sanji’s body ached in places he didn’t even know he was hit at, but it didn’t matter. He felt good letting out all of his frustration on someone who could take it.

He had to admit that fighting with Zoro was good fun, even if he was a dumbass.

-

The only audible noise in the area was the sound of afternoon wind and a bird's singing, as well as panting from two idiots currently laid on the gravel, limbs spread like starfish. 

Sanji stared at the shapes of clouds in the sky, body aching all over like he expected. Zoro was a few meters away, either doing the same as Sanji or closing his eyes. He wasn't sure, but he did know that Zoro napped too often for someone who was stronger than high schoolers were supposed to be. In that period of time Sanji was allowed to think about what had just happened, curly eyebrows furrowing as he thought about reasons why Zoro would suddenly initiate a fight. Of course, they hated each other. They each posed as an extreme annoyance to the other, and would fight as often as they said greetings—but this time was different. Zoro could have just left if he really did hate Sanji's presence, yet instead he decided to provoke him. 

A thought passed through the blond's mind and he pondered on it for a while, wondering if maybe Zoro did that because he _knew_ it was some type of stress relief. And Sanji had obviously been stressed the whole day, which wouldn't pass anyone's minds (unless they were Luffy) if they had been observing him like Zoro was during class. 

He questioned if the marimo was actually that considerate.

Or if he just felt like fighting.

The latter option seemed more credible, but moving, Sanji still didn't feel like going home and was also hungry, so those two racked up to his conclusion.

Leaning up on his elbow, he glanced over at Zoro and saw that the guy was indeed lying there with his eyes closed, arms now folded to place hands under his head. "Hey, mosshead."

Zoro just grunted.

"You wanna go get some ramen? I heard of a good place near here."

It took a second, but then Zoro opened one eye, gauging Sanji's expression before closing both eyes again. "Are you trying to poison me?"

"Come on, if I wanted to do that I would've done that ages ago." 

"...Fair."

Sanji stood, dusting himself off and checking his arms for any obvious bruises, calculating what he'd have to cover up from Zeff before he got back. The thought of Zeff made him sour again but he pushed it to the back of his mind, trodding over to his discarded bag and picking it up.

"So? Are you coming?"

His request ended with a peaceful Zoro trailing next to him on the roads near their school, the two of them listening to the rustling of the trees on either sides of the path. Sanji didn't feel inclined to say anything like he usually felt, especially on silent walks like this. He felt strangely comfortable. 

With a glance over at Zoro, Sanji noted that the man also seemed at ease.

It seemed like they could stand each other for a few minutes, after all.

Those few minutes dragged on to _more_ than a few minutes, and then _many_ minutes. 

While waiting for the food Sanji’d been fiddling with the chopsticks, tapping the thicker end onto the table as he watched Zoro out of his peripherals. He wondered what the other was thinking of, the two of them sitting in silence even with the chatter of people around them.

“So why a swordsman?” he eventually questioned, and Zoro didn’t say anything, the gears in his mind almost visibly turning. 

“Someone I admire had the goal to be the greatest swordsman,” Zoro hesitated, “Swordswoman,” he corrected himself, though unsurely because even Sanji wasn’t sure if there was a term such as that. 

“Really? How’d they do that?” 

“I’m not sure,” Zoro answered, and Sanji felt a little disappointed but he expected the reply. Zoro wasn’t going to tell him his whole life story after being civil for the past fifteen minutes or so. And Sanji wasn’t sure if he even really wanted to know it all. 

Zoro didn’t say anything after that, obviously not the most adept at social skills to know that if he’d wanted it not to be awkward, he‘d ask Sanji something. But that was how he was, Sanji guessed. 

A silent, yet present existence. 

Sanji didn’t mind it too much. 

“Two beef ramen specials,” the waiter announced, sidling up to their table with the bowls on a tray. They would’ve sat at the counter in front of the kitchen but the seats were currently taken up, settling instead for an area that required waiters instead. 

“Thank you,” Sanji smiled, observing the bowl that was placed in front of him. It looked presentable enough for its cheap price, and the aroma was nice. 

Zoro didn’t do any of the assessments that Sanji did, digging straight in to the food as Sanji poked at the egg and checked all the toppings.

”Is that what all cooks do?” Zoro asked with his mouth full, after the minute where Sanji hadn’t even taken a bite yet. 

“Have some _manners_ ,” Sanji insulted, and then continued to say, “Not all _chefs_ do this but most of them do.” 

“Why?”

“We want to appreciate the food, I guess.”

”Leaving it to cool down isn’t appreciating it.”

”Oh shut up, it’s only been a minutes or so. Nothing’s gonna happen in that time.”

Zoro snorted. 

Sanji realized they were back to the bickering. 

The blond finally started eating, appreciating the flavours as Zoro slurped away in front of him. 

“Honestly, why did I even suggest we go here together,” Sanji complained, nose scrunching when he saw Zoro basically swallow the egg whole. 

“Because I cheered you up.”

”Pft, as if. You actually probably made it—worse...”

Partway through his sentence, he realized what Zoro had actually just said.

The mosshead _had_ noticed that Sanji was in a bad mood, and he _had_ started a fight with the sole intention of letting Sanji get all of his frustration out. 

Zoro didn’t notice anything off, tipping his bowl and head back to get the broth as Sanji sat there, observing the person in front of him. This green-headed, brute-looking high-schooler—who was simultaneously an idiot and an admirably stubborn idiot—actually considered Sanji’s feelings and tried to do something about it. The thought of it made Sanji feel a little flustered, fingers tightening on his chopsticks as he felt a blush rise on his face that he tried to will away. Just the knowledge that someone acted that considerately for him made him feel embarrassed, he reasoned. There was no correlation with the fact that it was Zoro, though he had to acknowledge that Zoro wasn’t as bad a person as he thought he was.

The mosshead set the bowl down, making eye contact with Sanji and raising an eyebrow when he noticed Sanji had been staring. 

“What.”

Sanji also had to admit that altogether, Zoro didn’t look too bad either. Green hair and tan skin was a weird combination, but he pulled it off somehow—and the little accents such as the golden earrings and grey eyes made him almost... attractive. 

“Nothing, dumbass. You just ate like a damn cow, is all.”

“‘The fuck did you just say?” 

“Never heard of them? They go ‘moo’, you know? Big black and white things?”

Zoro narrowed his eyes, obviously getting provoked by Sanji’s words. He opened his mouth to refute something but then stopped short, as if remembering something. 

“Whatever,” he decided to say, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. 

The way he relented was strange to Sanji, but it wasn’t stranger than when he remembered he thought of Zoro as _attractive_ for a few seconds.

The greenhead on his mind shifted with a sigh, burping. Sanji nodded to himself.

Yeap. Strange as hell. He’d never think of that again.

-

Zoro was acting weird. 

It was a couple days after their fight in front of the school, and everyone (well, almost everyone) in Sanji's friend group realized that Zoro was being strange. The only one who didn't notice was Luffy. Nami had gotten Sanji's attention in class (to which he completely swooned about until he realized it was about a certain dumbass), asking Sanji why Zoro was being less violent today. He hadn't even tried to start a fight with Sanji yet, and he'd had their whole walk to school to do it. 

Zoro wasn't being strange as in... _drunk_ strange, but he was seeming protective over his bag, Sanji had eventually realized. As if there was something that wasn't supposed to be in there, especially at school. 

The blond glanced over at the dude during their history class, examining how Zoro's bag was still on his lap, and how he was actually _awake_ in class for once. He wasn't one to pry but—he _was_ one to pry, when it came to Zoro. If it was something Sanji could tease him about, he had to know about it, no matter what. 

Being that History was their third period, lunch was right after, and when Zoro left the class at a faster speed than normal (but still normal if anyone else looked at him) Sanji followed him, hot on his trail. 

"Marimo," Sanji called in the hallway, and Zoro just glanced at Sanji, making a _tsk_ noise before just continuing on his way. "Hey—what the hell?!" 

He was going to rip that bag out of Zoro's hands, no matter what it took. Sanji wondered what was in it as he quickened his steps, sneaking up behind Zoro to grab the strap of his bag, tugging on it. Zoro surprisingly didn't resist much and Sanji was now _really_ curious about what was in it, especially after Zoro just stopped to stare at him, as if daring him to do something to it. 

All Sanji did was unzip the top, glancing in and— _wow_ , _that is not what I expected_ , were the thoughts that ran through his mind after.

A gun, maybe. Perhaps some R18 mangas or a buttload of porn. Hell, he'd expect _anything_ over what he was currently looking at.

It was a small creature. A kitten, actually. Laid at the bottom of his empty bag and seemingly napping. It was grey and had darker grey stripes on it—a tabby, if Sanji's knowledge of cats was still as good as when he wanted one a few years back. When Sanji stared a little closer he realized that something was up with its ear—an injury, and that its paw was really badly wrapped up.

The blond looked up from the cat to make eye contact with Zoro, who then crossed his arms. 

"What? Gonna tell on me like a fifth grader?" Zoro taunted, and Sanji pressed his lips together before closing the top, zipping it up as he said:

"Well, that's boring. I thought you had something real bad in there. Why would I 'tell' on you for something like a _cat_?"

Zoro rolled his eyes, "You watched me the whole class."

 _Oh, so the dumbass actually_ noticed. 

"Yeah well, you were acting as if you had drugs in there or something..." 

"Now that you know, fuck off," Zoro said, grabbing the bag out of Sanji's hands, and though he did it quickly Sanji noticed that he still handled it with care. At that, he raised an eyebrow as Zoro started to walk off again. He followed, naturally. 

"What, embarrassed that you've got a little kitten in your bag? A little 'girly' there, don't you think, mosshead?" 

Zoro didn't say anything but Sanji could tell that he'd hit the mark, grinning to himself when Zoro looked embarrassed in that special way of his. 

"What's its name? Bubbles? _Wittle Bubbles?_ "

"Fuck. Off."

"Roronoa Zoro!" They heard a familiar voice, causing the two of them to freeze up.

"Shit," Zoro swore under his breath, and the two of them turned to see the gym teacher walking up to them.

" _What the fuck did you do this time?_ " Sanji hissed.

"I practiced with our school's human dummies," Zoro answered easily, and Sanji's eyebrows furrowed. _Practiced? What could a little punching do to—oh._ Zoro was a sword user. Sanji could see why cutting up the art club's reference material was probably gonna get him in trouble. And what better than to get in trouble with the art teacher's husband, the guy who liked making them do 40 laps in the field just for fun during the sweltering days of summer.

Zoro could handle a few laps right now, Sanji knew, but he obviously had business he wanted to take care of with the cat. Sanji suspected it had something to do with the injuries.

The teacher was only a few meters away now and making a quick decision, Sanji turned to Zoro, placing a hand on the bag.

"Take care of Wittle Bubbles," he said and Zoro barely had a chance to raise an eyebrow before Sanji turned, running with all the speed his soccer legs gave him. He rammed into the teacher's right side as harshly as he could, knowing exactly what to say to rile up their gym teacher and get him chasing Sanji. 

"Hey, no running in the—"

"You should lose some weight, mister! You're taking up too much space in the hallway!" 

It took a second, and then Sanji heard a bellowed _GET THE HELL BACK HERE!_ as he turned the corner. 

And people said teachers shouldn't swear.

-

"So, what's its name?" Chopper questioned as he finished wrapping up the paw.

Zoro stared at the little animal resting on the table, placing his hand on its small head and rubbing, feeling some sort of satisfaction when it pushed its head back against Zoro's palm.

"Wittle Bubbles."

"W— _Wittle Bubbles?_ "

-

“—you want to sell me off to those bastards?!” Sanji exclaimed, rage building through him as every second passed.

It was Friday, the last day of that week, and Sanji bad gotten into another argument with Zeff.

“What,” Sanji scoffed, “Are they threatening to bankrupt you or something?!”

“I’m not selling you off, you stupid eggplant! That is your _family_ , they want to see you again!”

“Those assholes are not family. I am _not_ a Vinsmoke and I will never be one!”

“Just listen, you stubborn—“

“No! Frankly, _fuck you_ Zeff, all I’ve ever tried to do was pay back my debt to you for taking me in, washing dishes in this dumbass kitchen—“

“You take that back—“

“—for the better half of my life only to force you to actually let me cook. And when I do learn how to cook you don’t appreciate anything I do and now—now _this_? A dinner with my ‘real’ family?! I gave up on my real family when they left me in an orphanage, you fucktard! You’re the only one I’d ever consider a father, but apparently that isn’t fucking _enough_ for you!”

With that Sanji left kitchen, ignoring Zeff’s yells as he left out the glass door of their restaurant in a flurry of frustration. He would have slammed the door if the door allowed him to, but they’d installed a soft-closing system which only made him more pissed. He felt like kicking something—someone. He felt irrational and he wanted to do crazy things like breaking his kitchen knives that he’d worked so hard to afford last month.

It was already enough that he’d been angry at Zeff for the better half of the week, still not over the fight they had about how he’d never make it in the professional world. And then _this_? _Fucking cherry on top_.

There was nothing to do with the bubbling in his chest, translated only into his heavy steps on the cement of the sidewalk. One of the outdoor clocks showed that it was 7 PM. Luffy was probably having his second dinner right about now. Nami would be studying. Usopp would be working on one of his little inventions and Chopper would be buried in one of his medicine books. Franky was probably out doing whatever stuff his robot-like self did, and Robin would be like Chopper, except with books on history as Brook played music at some bar in town. And then Zoro. The idiot was probably just training. Swinging around those swords of his like a crazed monkey with their bananas. Honestly, Sanji had no idea where the monkeys came from. But he did know that Zoro would be the easiest person to bother right now—and as proven before, fighting with the dumbass made him feel better. He also owed him for saving him and Wittle Bubbles (yes, Sanji had decided he’d forever be calling the cat that and he didn’t know Zoro had already named it).

So Sanji turned on his heel, quickening into nearly a run to get to Zoro’s place. He’d been there a few times when Luffy dragged him along to apparently “pick up hopeless Zoro before he gets lost” in the mornings, so the roads were familiar to him.

He made it there ten minutes later, sweating and panting but he didn’t care—he raised a hand and knocked. There was no reply. He knocked again.

The lights were off in the house.

 _Fuck_ , Sanji realized, suddenly recalling that Zoro often had kendo classes with his only guardian, the “legendary father”. No one would be home right now, and Sanji was unsure when the classes finished.

This info only proved to irk Sanji more, and he swore out loud, suddenly feeling a rush of emotions overwhelm him. It was like on the run there he was preparing to let it all out in a fight, but now that said fight was taken from him the only release was through tears or yelling. So he did a hybrid child of both, swearing again loudly as he stepped down the stairs to Zoro’s house, palm coming up to his eye to wipe haphazardly at the tears that were quickly overflowing. He knew there was a park nearby; muttering curses under his breath the whole way there as he tried again and again to hold in his tears but to no avail.

Just thinking back to how Zeff wanted him to see his family made him seethe inside, and pulled a sadness from deep within him that choked him into tears. The old bastard simply didn’t understand him, period. The Vinsmokes were people Sanji hated. Rich snobs that had prodigal sons and a daughter that sauntered around town like they owned the place. The earliest memory Sanji had of that wretched family was a locked room and bruises on his arms. Punishments for not being as smart or physically gifted. His mother’s smile, which disappeared quicker than Sanji could have cherished it. His bare feet on the ground as he ran away only to be taken back and beat. And then the realization that he’d been thrown away. Tossed into an orphanage as he overheard his supposed Father’s words of how it was never to be revealed that he was a Vinsmoke. Something about keeping face and reputation.

Why in the fuck would he ever want to have a dinner with those people?

The tears were flowing freely now, and he felt as helpless as he had when he’d ran away that one day, realizing that there was no real escape as he stood frozen before the entrance of the park wiping fruitlessly at his tears.

He hadn’t even noticed that someone had walked past him. And then, an “Oi.”

Sanji looked up from his blur of tears, immediately hearing alarm bells when he saw that it was Zoro standing in front of him. Mr. Cocky Musclehead who was the last person he wanted to show his tears to. He instinctively tried to hide his face but then he decided _oh what the hell_ , it was already too late.

The blond realized that the footsteps walking behind him now were that of Zoro’s dad, and Zoro himself had a bag slung around his back. They’d just finished classes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Zoro questioned, and Sanji would’ve usually taken it in stride, replied _What the hell is wrong with_ you _, bastard_ , but he couldn’t even find the strength in him to do so. Because fuck the world for making him fight with Zeff twice in a week, allowing Zoro to be his mental break with the use of fighting and letting Zoro see him crying, alone, in front of a park.

So he just moved his gaze to the ground and sniffled. A sign for Zoro to just _move along, I was never here. I don’t want to talk about it._

Zoro didn’t take the sign— _when did he ever understand signs, that idiot_ —and instead Sanji heard two footsteps, and then felt a hand on the back of his head, pressing his face into a shoulder.

He stiffened, never expecting to be consoled by someone like Zoro. Sanji wondered if this was okay—they were _enemies_ , weren’t they? Those types of people didn’t console each other when one was sad. It was then that he realized he was an idiot, because Zoro had already consoled him a few days earlier, but in the form of fighting. This was barely any different, was it?

It also wasn’t so bad, after all. For a supposed body only made of muscle, Zoro’s shoulder felt nice to press his forehead to.

Probably without noticing, Zoro’s hand started to fiddle with his hair, his breath evening out and forcing Sanji to match it.

And he was warm, that dumbass. Sanji had barely realized that it was a little chilly before feeling how warm normal people were supposed to be. Or maybe not “normal”, but big muscle brains that only worked out in their spare times and felt warmer than most people.

Zoro didn’t say anything. Sanji was unsure whether Zoro knew what he was doing or not, but he was grateful for it. The blond didn’t want to admit that he’d leaned a little of his weight on Zoro; allowed himself to relax a little bit. Calmed down when he was enveloped in a scent that should probably be disgusting but only reminded him of dumb fights under the sun; of grins and taunting words.

“We just keep going,” Zoro said. The only words he said for the minutes Sanji spent with his face buried in the mosshead’s shirt.

And it was admirable, Zoro’s words. They spoke of stories without being more than a few words. It spelled out loss and sadness and mourning all in four, about what it took to overcome that feeling of remorse. Sanji was reminded of Zoro’s fight against Mihawk, and felt that those words were both motivation and comfort, from someone who barely showed those to other people.

“Yeah,” Sanji eventually answered, staring at the ground beneath them with his forehead still on Zoro’s shoulder. And then he offered, “You wanna fight, bastard?”

-

Things changed between them, after that week.

They both saw each other differently, less as enemies and more like rivals in strength.

The whole thing would soon morph into a jumble of feelings Sanji would have to untangle, either way.


	5. Out in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji and Zoro’s senior year. (Read: the 365 days that ruined Sanji’s view of women and love forever. In a good way?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh I hope you enjoy!!

“ _Sanji_ ~” a familiar voice whined. “Come on, class ended fifteen minutes ago!”

It was weird. The fish in Sanji’s dream was speaking like a human.

“Oh, hi Nami.”

 _Nami?_ Sanji was sure the fish’s name was not Nami.

“Wake— _up!_ ”

He felt a hit on his head and he immediately sat up, recognizing that sucker punch from anywhere. It took him a second to forget about the dream he had about filleting a fish, but he composed himself quickly enough for his goddess.

“ _Nami-swan!_ ” Sanji immediately crooned, “What brings you to my 5th period?”

“I was searching for this dummy here,” Nami pinched Luffy’s ear and the dark-haired man only laughed, “But he wouldn’t leave without you.”

“Sanji promised me dinner today.”

“I promised you dinner? When?”

As Sanji argued with Luffy about eating all of his supplies, the door slid open and a head of green stood in the doorway.

“Oi, Nami, I’ve been waiting this whole time.”

“How’d you find this classroom?”

“ _—I didn’t even eat that much—!_ ”

“I tried to get to the front of the school but I heard you and Luffy anyways.”

“— _You did not just eat two plates last time! It was eight. EIGHT!_ ” Sanji exclaimed while shaking Luffy by his shirt. When he realized everyone had quieted down he turned to see what happened, making eye contact with Zoro.

The two of them visibly recoiled once their gazes met and Sanji let go of Luffy’s shirt, mostly because Nami smacked him upside the head. He turned his attention to Nami as he rubbed his head sheepishly, listening to her scoldings for causing a ruckus. Seconds after, his stare went back to Zoro who had never moved his own. He slumped back down into his desk when Nami started lecturing Luffy, knowing it would take a few more moments before they left to the cinema. He let his head rest on his folded arm, turning so that he could see Zoro again.

The mosshead was still staring at him, expression unreadable as usual.

But Sanji was used to it, after having known the guy for more than a year now. (Almost two years, he realized.) He was used to a lot more than just Zoro’s unreadable expressions.

And after those one and some years, he knew exactly how to make Zoro react.

“ _Ma-ri-mo-kun_ ,” Sanji mouthed, and he couldn’t stop his grin when Zoro’s ears went red, the other’s body seizing up like whenever he was embarrassed.

It was so like Zoro; to be completely shameless out in the open, but completely embarrassed during secret moments shared between them.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he mouthed back, and then Sanji laughed, repositioning so that he was facing the desk top, forehead rested on his arm.

The past few months had been strange. Almost blissful. They were now seniors at Romance Dawn, one month and a few days into school. Sanji reckoned that being a senior wasn’t much different than being a sophomore or junior, but he did guess that it gave them more authority. Not like they actually needed it or anything.

The summer break that had just passed was probably the best one he’d had all his life. As an apology for being an asshole before, Zeff allowed him to go camping with his friends—meaning Usopp, Luffy, Nami, Chopper, Franky, Brook, Robin and the mosshead, of course (though he wouldn’t consider him a “friend”).

The whole trip had been chaotic. It started off with Luffy eating live beatles, nearly poisoning himself on some herb Chopper had CLEARLY warned them about, and then Zoro getting lost. Sanji grinned to himself when he remembered the search party they’d had for the moss-for-brains, how it took an hour of Sanji wading through grass to finally find the grasshead sitting near the river. And then Zoro’s scandalized face when Sanji managed to push him into the river, though he was just as quickly pulled in. The current was strong, but considering the fact that the water only reached their knees, there was nothing that could really harm them even if they did manage to submerge themselves.

He remembered being soaked from head to toe, a scratch on the bottom of his foot that Zoro casually (but not so casually) mentioned to Chopper who quickly fixed it up, saying things like “ _why didn’t you tell me, Sanji!_ ” as Sanji glared at Zoro for outing him. It was just a stupid scratch. Zoro had no reason to look like it was a mortal death wound.

That same chaotic day ended with the knowledge he’d be sharing a tent with Zoro, because apparently Luffy only wanted to room with Usopp ‘cause Usopp didn’t snore so loud and was fun. Sanji refuted that _why the fuck would I want to sleep near someone who does snore loudly?_ But he was promptly ignored by Nami who was making the plans. So their first night out was with Luffy, Chopper and Usopp’s giggles in the neighbouring tent, the ladies’ quiet tent meters away in the nice patch of land, Franky and Brook’s half-quiet half-loud tent, where they could sometimes hear a “ _Super!!_ ”, “ _Yohohoho_ ” or the sound of a violin and mechanics. Sanji had no idea what the hell Franky would be needing to build out here, but soon found out it was some automatic fishing rod the next day.

Zoro and Sanji’s sad, sleeping-bag-less tent had been filled with hushed “ _fuck you’s_ ”, feet invading each other’s presences just to get kicked or nudged away, a completely necessary “ _you’re too close to me, marimo_ ” and a “ _it’s not my fault the witch gave us the smallest tent_ ” which of course led to a fight. Though there wasn’t much fighting possible in a tiny tent, so it was more wrestling and trying to rip out each other’s hair. There were some compromising positions, but Sanji wouldn’t talk about those things.

They ended up at a stalemate, some AM in the night, and they both didn’t admit that they’d woken up snuggled together either way.

Sanji’s favourite memory that summer trip might have been when they were roasting marshmallows on their last day there. The fire was so warm, and Brook’s violin sounded majestic out in the wild. Luffy and Usopp’s singing could’ve been improved of course, but it didn’t matter in the moment. Sanji loved it because he’d been able to teach the ladies the correct way to roast marshmallows, and made the best s’mores with the perfect proportions. Over the fire, he’d caught Zoro’s eye, and even he couldn’t ignore the way his heart started pounding in his chest. He’d gotten to the point where he accepted that Zoro was the cause for it, but he’d never name the feeling. Because he was just a gracious fellow, he sat down on the log next to Zoro once they were planning to call it a night, having designated the mosshead to put out the fire when he wanted to. And then it was just the two of them, Sanji teaching Zoro that _no, you don’t roast three at a time, why is everything in threes for you?_ and showing him the correct way to do it. Zoro had grumbled something about how there shouldn’t be a “correct” way to roast marshmallows, also mentioning that he didn’t even like sweets that much. Of course Sanji answered with an easy “ _I don’t give a shit if you don’t like sweets or not, everyone is eating at least one s’mores on this trip_ ”. And if finding Zoro cute that one time when he got lost wasn’t enough, the marshmallow fluff on his nose was a whole other story. It was a wonder how he’d gotten it there, but considering how Zoro ate like a baboon, it wasn’t surprising.

There was also a scene that kept repeating in Sanji’s mind like a broken tape, seemingly haunting him and yet also making him feel butterflies in his stomach.

It had something to do with after they put the fire out, and went a little like this:

“ _Ow, shit!_ ” Sanji had exclaimed, turning his eyes to shield from the smoke that made him tear up. “Fucking wind had to act up now.”

He heard Zoro chuckling somewhere in the background, but he was too busy wiping at his eyes, the stinging distracting him from all other senses. He didn’t know the science of it but fuck if smoke didn’t make him blind.

Sanji hadn’t even noticed that Zoro had gotten closer, and when he opened his eyes again he saw through teary eyes that Zoro was flapping the smoke away with the leftover newspapers they’d used as a fire starter. He was close enough that Sanji could reach out a hand and touch his shoulder with ease.

The light that had been taken out along with the fire made the whole place at least five times darker, the only source seemingly coming from the moon up above. Even through that sad excuse of light, Sanji felt his damn heart squeeze at the sight of Zoro once more—definitely something that had been happening more than was healthy. Zoro looked over his shoulder then, seemingly checking on Sanji only to lock eyes with him. He stopped the flapping of papers when he saw that Sanji was alright... well... “alright”. The blond barely noticed that when he blinked, the tears of dry eyes dripped down his cheeks.

“...Second time I’ve seen you cry, cook,” Zoro stated, and then Sanji blushed at the other memory of the first.

“Well—!” he reached a hand up to try and discreetly wipe the tears away but was interrupted in his attempt, catching movement in his peripherals of Zoro's hand reaching up, freezing when Zoro did it instead, calloused thumb rubbing at his right cheek.

It didn’t help his case of embarrassment, in fact only making his face burn even more.

“It’s fine to cry, you know,” Zoro said, and then Sanji scoffed, looking away in case Zoro saw the emotion in his visible eye.

“Easy for you to say. You cried in front of a whole crowd a week after I met you. This doesn’t even count because it was from the smoke.”

Zoro didn’t say anything, and when Sanji realized that he hadn’t moved his hand he only felt himself getting more flustered. Finding it weird, he joined gazes with Zoro again and saw the man with a contemplative look in his eyes. The marimo dropped his hand, and then, a moment later, Sanji saw more than he usually did.

Meaning, Zoro had just moved his fringe away from his face, using his other hand now.

“Huh,” the greenhead said before Sanji could recover from his shock, “Double swirly brows.”

Sanji felt a rush of emotion overcome him, a combination of anger and embarrassment and that weird ache as well as beating of his heart. It was also the first time he’d seen the full of Zoro’s face so close in front of him, and he felt so breathless all of a sudden.

“Always wanted to see what was up with that.”

Zoro’s eyes flitted across what Sanji expected was every inch of his face, as if seemingly trying to remember it before it disappeared. It made Sanji’s heart beat faster, and he hated that Zoro’s hand felt so warm against the areas where it came in contact with Sanji’s cheek (the mosshead having the audacity to hold Sanji’s fringe out of his face for longer than ten seconds) and that _look_ in his eyes. A look that conveyed the message that he possibly felt _more_ for Sanji—some sort of _longing_ and melancholy meshed together; masked behind nonchalance as if he didn’t want to admit that he _wanted_ Sanji—and all it did was birth curiosity and frustration in Sanji because of the grand question mark on their relationship.

The blond didn’t know why he did it.

It must’ve been the confusing signals and the beating of his heart that drove him to suddenly lean in, all rational thought thrown out the window because of his tornado of feelings. Their lips were mere centimetres away from touching—all the while thoughts were running through Sanji’s mind, acknowledging that he was a stereotypical high schooler on a summer trip where he discovered the _L word—_ but the brush of his fringe back on his face snapped him out of any other thoughts and subsequently, actions.

Sanji caught himself at the last second, swerving and ducking his head, bumping it on Zoro’s shoulder because of the momentum. Instead of a kiss, it was some weird half-hug thing. Sanji didn’t take note of it, only wanting to just stop time and wonder why the _fuck_ he’d had the thought of _kissing_ this—this _mosshead_. Roronoa Zoro! He couldn’t see Zoro’s expression and he didn’t necessarily want to, knowing that spending five more seconds in that position would possibly scar him mentally.

The blond pulled away as if burned, again wondering why he was really about to go against all of his principles when it came to romance—kissing before any consent was given, taking his partner by surprise, kissing a _man_.

“I’m—uh...”

“Yeah, nice one. Rubbing your gross tears on my shirt,” Zoro said for him, and with one glance at the swordsman Sanji could tell that Zoro _knew_. But he was saving them both the embarrassment if they acknowledged it.

“ _It_ ”. As in Sanji almost kissing Zoro. He wanted to bury himself when he thought about it again.

He was losing his mind. It must’ve been the trip that made him like this.

“I’ll be in the tent.”

He had hauled ass, basically diving into the tent and trying to sleep away his burning face and tingly fingertips, still wide awake when Zoro slipped in ten or so minutes later. Sanji wondered what Zoro had done in those ten minutes, and he chalked it up to Zoro recovering from being almost kissed by him. He probably felt ten thousand types of confused, maybe a little disgusted, but Sanji knew it was more disgust at the fact that it was his rival that’d nearly kissed him, less disgusted that it was a man. Sanji couldn’t imagine Zoro being a homophobe. The dumbass just couldn’t care enough for that.

Even though Sanji reassured himself that he’d forget all about it and take it as a sign that Zoro had no feelings for him, he still couldn’t hold back the trembling of his lips from the nerves, embarrassment, regret, anger; everything all in one.

He barely got any sleep, even after he heard Zoro’s snores.

What came with the crickets was the inkling of a thought that Sanji might be in deep. What came after the crickets and with the rising sun was the fact that Sanji’d never wanted to kiss someone like that before, until Zoro.

A glance at a sleepy and silent Zoro in the morning cemented the idea that he was possibly—most likely, crushing on Zoro.

-

The ride back home that day had been sad, but it didn’t matter when they all hung out for the rest of summer anyway, coming all together to Sanji’s cooking competitions, Zoro’s sword-fighting, Robin’s spelling bees and accompanying Nami to auctions.

Sanji and Zoro didn’t mention anything about that night as the days passed, and even so the blond knew he’d avoid it if possible, taking the message clear as day that Zoro was not interested. However, he did notice a gradual change in how they acted to one another. He assumed it was some sort of pity act from Zoro, and at that point in life was too done with everything to reject it. Zoro was acting just a smidge kinder than usual, teasing more than insulting.

After another couple of weeks of that, they’d seemingly settled back to the comfortable point they had before, where Sanji didn’t inwardly freak out whenever he saw Zoro’s face. Zoro didn’t seem to ever have any problems so the chef couldn’t tell if there was any “normal” to even get back to, but the matter was seemingly boxed up and thrown into the ocean.

The summer finished like that, and it was hard to tell when Sanji and Zoro’s relationship evolved into whatever it was now, but the two of them merely took it and accepted it, as they did with many other things. It only became apparent once they’d gotten back to school; a familiar environment but different feelings and actions. The lingering gazes and the teasing comments, the blushes that appeared more often on Sanji’s (and surprisingly Zoro’s) cheeks than ever before, the after sparring moments when they wordlessly agreed to go out to eat somewhere just because it was more “convenient” to do so. Becoming regulars at a ramen store that knew them as the colourful-haired couple. Take it all in stride, was their motto. Even if that stride was confusing and weird but made them happy all the same.

None of those events helped Sanji’s case. In fact, he was pretty sure that it only made his feelings more complicated.

Sanji could now still feel Zoro’s gaze on him but he just listened to how Nami grilled Luffy, closing his eyes. The day was too nice and he was in such a good mood; falling back asleep was the easiest thing in the world. All the while he was losing consciousness, he just thanked Usopp for introducing him to this bunch of wackos.

-

A little tickle on his cheek pulled him from his sleep, stirring him in his unconsciousness before promptly taking him away from his dreams when he remembered where he last fell asleep.

It took him several tries to regain his senses, and when he did he registered that he was indeed still in the classroom, back a little sore from his apparently bad napping position.

“Finally awake?” a question was asked, and then Sanji at last had the mind to notice Zoro sitting in front of him, the chair from the desk in front of him pulled until it touched the front of Sanji’s desk. He was sitting on it backwards, arms folded over the backrest. Sanji moved so that his chin was on his arm, facing Zoro. “Why are you sleeping so much, anyway?”

“Rough night,” Sanji answered, an easy smile slipping onto his face, “That old fart made me re-cook a steak 10 times.”

Zoro hummed a response and Sanji yawned, leaning back in his seat to stretch. That movement shifted the fabric on his back and he instinctively reached to catch it, feeling the material of their uniform’s jacket under his fingers. With a glance at Zoro—who had now taken to staring out the open window in boredom, chin in his hand, Sanji couldn’t hold back the secretive smile on his face. The damn bastard and his considerate actions. He was only in his undershirt.

“Why didn’t you go with Nami and Luffy? Actually, why didn’t you guys just wake me up again?”

“Nami felt bad for you,” Zoro mumbled, still not moving from his position, “And I didn’t want to third wheel with that couple so I stayed.”

“Is that so?” Sanji questioned, fully slipping the jacket off of him to fold it in his hands. He stared out the same window Zoro was staring out of, noting the earlier setting sun of autumn and watching how the players of the football team practiced. He could hear their yells from here. “You could have left.”

“...You know I wouldn’t have.”

Sanji had to pretend to be fixing the wrinkles in the jacket to hide the red of his face and the smile that was far from secretive. Zoro now often said things like that—things that should only be reserved for people he cared about more than normal, and it only made the hope in Sanji worse.

The blond stood abruptly, decision made.

“Let’s go,” the chef said, and Zoro leaned back, stretching out his arms.

“Actually, now I’m a little tired.”

“Oh whatever, you never say no to a quick match.”

Now that piqued Zoro’s interests, and he soon stood, repositioning his chair just before Sanji tossed him his jacket.

“Last one to the wrestling room is an idiot—“ Sanji betted, already pulling open the door, “—Though you don’t even need to be last to be one.”

Sanji could hear Zoro’s irritated response even as he flew down the corridor, and it was only then that he realized this might’ve been a little unfair. Zoro got lost in the school regularly, even after being a student there for three years.

He turned to check if Zoro was already lost but saw his figure catching up scarily fast, recognizing that Zoro wouldn’t get lost if he was just chasing after someone. Sanji upped his speed, passing the poster board with loose papers fluttering in his wake. He turned the corner, hand gripping the edge of the wall to make sure he didn’t slip. Making it to the stairwell, he slid down the set of rails to get to the first landing, nearly losing his footing on the touchdown. He ran down the rest of the steps, hearing how Zoro just skipped every step and jumped from landing to landing like the barbarian he was. Even still Sanji was in the lead, the two of them finally racing down the last hallway to get to the room.

The janitor who watched from the commons area just shook his head.

Sanji rammed into the doors first, tumbling through the entrance like a baby bull and falling while he was at it, rolling twice before he stopped himself with a hand to the floor. He lay there seconds after, panting, thankful for how cool the ground was on his quickly heating skin. He flipped onto his back and just stared at the ceiling meters away. The wrestling room wasn't all that flattering, and was basically never used because no one cared enough about wrestling after an apparent legendary year of students left. It wasn't in bad condition by any means—in fact its utility was quite nice, mats still intact on the floor and space honestly bigger than it should have ever been. It was adjacent to the gym after all, which meant it had the same height, medium windows spanning from the top of the back wall to the left side. 

The blond lifted his head to look at the entrance where Zoro was bent over, panting with his hands on his knees.

“That—was unfair,” Zoro eventually stated, “You got a head start.”

“Boo hoo,” Sanji replied, flicking his head to get his hair back in place as he slowly sat up, uniform a mess. “Beat me then, if you really think so.”

“Easy,” Zoro wiped at his forehead, straightening before throwing his jacket somewhere off to the side. He made his way over to the mats and Sanji eventually followed.

“I’ll make you regret saying that.”

Their sparring was chaotic, to say the least about it. That was how they explained it to the teachers—because now, instead of fights during the day and school they’d decided to save their fights for after school. Sanji even now still only used his legs to fight, and Zoro was just a maniac in general, so whenever anyone saw them “sparring” they either butted in because they thought they were killing each other, or they just watched because they were too scared to say anything about it.

But it was fun.

Sometimes it was the highlight of his day; the two of them messing with each other at whatever chance they got. They both didn’t want to make it easy for the other—like now, where partway through the fight Zoro unexpectedly grabbed at his tie, pulling him forward in an attempt to punch him in the face. Sanji dodged at the last second, trying to hook Zoro behind the knees with his leg but failing to do so because of his underestimation of Zoro’s balance. All it caused was a little stumble that the mosshead easily recovered from, the two of them jumping back to gather themselves once more.

Honestly, it was surprising that they’d never gotten each other in a coma.

Sanji’s shin landed a blow to Zoro’s side and the latter flinched at the impact, even still bringing his arm back to punch Sanji in the guts.

To be honest, “sparring” was definitely the wrong word. Sparring was “to exchange light blows”, if Sanji remembered anything from the Google search he did the other day, but what they were doing was not light blows. That was especially true when Sanji doubled over, hand coming up to his mouth. They should probably just call it “fighting”.

“What, can’t handle that light blow?” Zoro questioned, but Sanji knew that even though it was a taunt there was actual worry there. After all, they were still kids, and sometimes they couldn’t control their strength outputs so well. Sanji remembered an instance where he nearly broke Zoro’s nose.

“Fuck you, I can feel all the beef from last night coming back up, that’s why.”

Zoro laughed at that, and Sanji peeked up from his fringe, always a sucker for those kind of situations. He never regretted stealing glances at Zoro, especially when they were in the midst of fighting. One would probably just call that observing their opponent, but Sanji was sure opponents never stared with the intention of remembering moments for future references when they missed someone. Zoro had already broken out in a sweat like Sanji, and his skin glistened under the ugly lights of their school's wrestling room. He somehow still looked like the picture-perfect of _Sanji's crush_ (with heart eyes added to that) and it was honestly unfair. That thought made Sanji recall moments like these before, but where the lights weren’t on and only the windows high above shone moonlight inside. Zoro always looked stunning no matter the setting, and it even brought butterflies to Sanji’s stomach.

“Goddamn,” Sanji said, abruptly sitting down, one leg folded under his bent knee and arm coming up to rest on that knee. He couldn’t fight anymore for today, with his thoughts in a mess like this. Usually it was fine and he could just keep these emotions to himself, but he blamed the late night of steak cooking that made him feel like vomiting all of these emotions out.

After a moment Zoro walked up to him, crouching down to observe him. “Did I hit you that hard?” he questioned.

“You’ll never hit me hard enough, you weak marimo.”

Zoro let out a _tch_ , “But still, you’re not getting back up,” he reached up almost instinctively, taking a piece of Sanji’s fringe and playing with it between his fingers. “Does that mean I win?”

Sanji brushed Zoro’s hand away, rolling his eyes. Zoro consistently got close to revealing his identical eyebrow, as if he was teasing him, and that made Sanji squirm. “That makes us even.”

“324 to 324.”

Zoro, from the same position, glanced to the side to see the clock on the far wall. It read 6:38.

“Come on,” Zoro said, knocking Sanji’s forehead with his fingers, “We should head back.”

“Ugh,” the blond complained, falling onto his back, arms spread out, “Can’t wait for the old man to grill me again.”

“Suck it up,” Zoro replied, and Sanji pouted to the ceiling, “Didn’t you want to be the greatest or something?”

“Find the All Blue,” Sanji corrected, and Zoro shrugged.

“Big difference. Both those things are a chef’s dream.”

A smile played on Sanji’s lips when he heard Zoro saying chef instead of cook, feeling inspired enough to sit up again. By the time he was standing, Zoro had already fetched his jacket, making his way to the exit.

Honestly, Sanji wouldn’t trade out what he had with Zoro for anything. It was a priceless, but slightly confusing and frustrating relationship. Even so, he expected anyone to be frustrated when Zoro was simultaneously a blockhead and the most observant person.

He just didn’t see things that Sanji wanted him to see.

“If you really don’t wanna go home,” Zoro suddenly spoke up, holding the door for Sanji who was lagging behind. “You could come with me to my kendo class.”

Like his feelings.

-

“And—SCORE!”

The crowd cheered, Romance Dawn’s side of the bleachers roaring especially loud.

“Sanji-san!” he heard Nami call from the side, “Good job!”

“Nami-swan!” Sanji swooned in response, forgetting about the game entirely when he realized his goddess was cheering for him. “It’s all for you!”

He stood there for too long, however, and his teammate had to shove him to remind him to get into place.

It was the provincial championships for soccer and they were lucky enough to be playing in their hometown this year. The score was currently 2-1, in their favour, the last goal having been scored by the blond himself.

Sanji was their star player after all, because his footing and ball control was exceptional, and the strength he had in his legs just topped it all off. It wouldn’t be the first time they won provincials in the past four years.

The ball was starting to move again and so Sanji moved with it, using his instincts to determine where it’d be passed next. The second the ball was kicked, Sanji intercepted, leaping from his spot to catch it with the side of his foot. Using the same momentum he pushed it forward, glancing up for just a second and spotting a head of green from his peripherals. _Finally_. Dumbass had him waiting.

Sanji felt a smirk come onto his face as he raced past where he’d seen the marimo, knowing the guy’s eyes were on him. Like Sanji enjoyed watching Zoro and his false swords at his kendo club, he knew Zoro enjoyed watching Sanji play football. And it was always the most satisfying feeling to score a goal in his presence, as if showing Zoro that, _yeah_ , he had skills.

“It is now 3-1, in favour of green team!”

The crowd screamed and Sanji blew kisses towards Nami, staring the next person over at Zoro. He raised a middle finger, pushing his tongue out of his mouth.

“Stop getting distracted!” Colby warned and Sanji turned, missing the smile that appeared on Zoro’s face.

The game ended easily in their favour, their group gathering in a ball of hyped boys before splitting ways. 7-2 was the final score, 4 of those points having been Sanji’s.

“Oi, idiot prince!”

Sanji perked up at the mention of his—well, what he knew was his—name, swallowing the water he’d just chugged to look over at where he remembered Zoro was standing. He saw both Nami and Luffy also waving at him, and so he jogged over to the fence, wiping his sweat with the little towel he’d received earlier.

“That was so cool!” Luffy exclaimed, “I want to try soccer as well!”

“You’d eat the ball before anything else,” Nami interjected, but then she turned towards Sanji, gracing him with her smile, “Congratulations!”

Sanji was sure his eyes exploded in hearts, and in his mind a blessing was going out to whoever was watching over him. “It was all because of the power of love! Of doves and cupid and _amour_ —“

“Let’s go, Luffy,” Nami said, turning casually as Sanji continued his speech.

People stepped down from the bleachers and started leaving as Sanji kept his passioned speech going on in the background, the field emptying out by the minute. Moments later it was basically just Zoro, staring at Sanji with an expression that was purposefully deadpanned.

“Are you done, ero-cook?”

“—and the seven wonders of the world!—"

"YOU STUPID EGGPLANT!"

Sanji froze up at the tone and sound of that voice, turning and seeing Zeff quickly coming up to where they were, except on Zoro's side of the fence.

"You have a cooking competition, did you forget?! The semifinals for that one from before! You were the one who begged me to drive you there after this game!"

 _Oh, shit_ , Sanji suddenly recalled it all, remembering how he circled this day twice on his calendar, marking it as the most important day of the month. Not only were there soccer provincials, he was also participating in a high class cooking competition for aspiring chefs. He hadn't told any of his friends about the second part, because he was honestly doubting himself—and he didn't want any of them to see it.

"Yes, yes, I remember. Let's go. Cya Zoro—" Sanji attempted to leave quickly, praying that the mosshead didn't join him and that maybe he had some kendo classes or something, but was sadly betrayed by fate.

"Let me go with you."

It took Sanji a second but he quickly replied with a " _Hah_?! Why the hell would I want to see your ugly mug in the crowd?!" 

"I don't care about what you want or not, we have to go. Might as well come along, Zoro," Zeff said as he turned, and Sanji watched in double the betrayal as Zoro and Zeff started walking to the exit of the area. 

A million ideas to get Zoro to _not_ follow them were forming in his mind, but he eventually decided that _whatever_ , Zoro had seen worse sides of him before. What was one more?

Sanji quickly ran to catch up.

-

His hands were sweating. It was simultaneously hot and cold in the arena-like room that the competition had been placed in, the chopping of vegetables and boiling of water playing like music behind the voice of an enthusiastic announcer. It wasn't the biggest competition that Sanji had ever been in, but the reason he was so nervous was because it was a step up in level, and one of his favourite chefs were sitting right at the judge panel, waiting with a napkin hanging from his shirt collar. 

The man was going to eat Sanji's dish in half an hour, and the 11 other dishes as well. Only 4 of them would continue to the finals. The cut was big, and there was no way that he could guarantee the other's cooking wasn't good. So he just had to guarantee that his was better.

He could feel eyes on him and knew that it was Zoro, Zeff most likely checking out the other contestant's skills and the rest of the thirty or so people were chatting and oo'ing and ahh'ing at the display of flashy steps from Station 5. Sanji was in Station 9, doing everything efficiently, sometimes plating certain parts in fancy ways but it was no different from what he did in the kitchen back at home. 

He was making Coq au Vin, a dish focused on chicken braised with wine, other ingredients including mushrooms, pork and onions. They were given an hour and a half to make a dish of their choice, which meant that he was cutting it close because of how long it took to cook the chicken if he wanted to do it right. However, it was helpful that he cut the expected preparation time just because of his habitude of preparing ingredients. 

Sanji checked the time and at that moment he realized he had a minute left until he could start the finishing touches. He'd prepared everything else he could while the chicken cooked, so all that was left were the mushrooms and onions, and the additional 10 minutes of simmering. He glanced over to the crowd and made eye contact with Zoro, who mouthed "smells good" when their eye contact lasted for a bit. It made Sanji laugh because he knew there was no way Zoro could pinpoint what of the twelve dishes being cooked was the smell of Sanji's, but the encouragement made his heart as warm as the oven. 

The minute changed and Sanji took the pot out, doing the rest with that little bout of nerve-clearing that Zoro had given him, a smile on his face that he wanted Zeff to understand as him being proud of his food (and not because of a greenhead). 

The rest of the time passed in a flash, and Sanji was plating his last dish as everyone else stood with their hands held in front of them, the announcer counting down the seconds. He finished with ten seconds extra. 

Then came the tasting period, and Sanji watched everything pass with bated breath, gaze focused on the chef he admired and trying to learn what were good signs and what were not. What he decided was a terrible sign was the man setting his fork down and wiping his mouth after only one taste. Station 5, whoever that was, experienced that. Sanji cringed, afraid of his own testing.

Finally it was him, and he brought the cart up to the judges, setting down the covered dishes one by one with care. He soon backed up a step, hands held in front of him to say that he was done. The judges uncovered the tops and Sanji held back the urge to bite his lip, straining his ears to hear every murmur that they said either under their breath or to another one of the judges. And then they tasted it, and Sanji's eyes flicked over to his admired, feeling relief and happiness pass through him all at once when the man kept eating. There were some nods and some "mm's", and Sanji thought he heard a comment about how it was "delectable," but it could be his biased mind talking.

The last three dishes passed and after a few minutes the chefs were lined up, all waiting. 

The mic was handed to Sanji's favourite chef and he felt as if he was sitting on the edge of his seat, yet somehow standing.

"We have all tried your dishes and we enjoyed them thoroughly, You are all good chefs, but as you know this is a competition, and practice shows through your cooking. The ones moving on will be—"

The first two names followed by the definition of their dishes, how they passed, and the claps blurred out in Sanji's mind, and he was sure that his nails were going to cut through his palm if he clenched his fist any harder. 

"Our third contestant moving onto the finals..."

He closed his eyes.

"Sanji Black."

And then it was all over. Sanji barely remembered what happened after and all the formalities, just riding on the high of getting into the finals and being praised for that particular dish that he was worried about. The whole time, his thoughts were jumping from one thing to another, such as the past fails of the coq au vins that he'd made before, his mother, Zeff, Zoro. He shook people's hands without really thinking about it, walked to the exit sans absorbing it all in, entering the elevator with a blank but filled mind. 

"Ero-cook."

Sanji snapped out of it at Zoro's voice, the first that he'd spoken ever since they'd gotten there. Zeff was going to drive the car to the back exit they were waiting at, because the walk to the parking spot was far and Zeff had said something about Sanji being tired. It was just the two of them, the sky darkening past the windows and buildings. 

"You know, I didn't want you here," Sanji suddenly decided to say. "And it's... because, I thought I'd lose. I don't have enough experience, my knowledge of dishes is currently mediocre and I've failed that particular dish so many times though I still decided to do it. I thought..." Sanji remembered about how Zoro had encouraged him in his own stupid way and suddenly felt incredibly thankful that Zoro had insisted on going. He smiled, turning to Zoro. "Thanks for—"

Zoro leaned in, planting a kiss on Sanji’s lips.

All words died in Sanji’s throat.

Everything that had been building up in his brain just melted away and slipped through the cracks in his mind, a tingle of adrenaline and happiness and shock running through him.He couldn't believe what was happening.

When Zoro pulled back, Sanji was blushing like a strawberry, the back of his hand coming up to his mouth.

“Good job.”

 _Good job?_ Sanji wanted to know what a good job meant, because he’d never received a reward like that for any of his other achievements.

A kiss, from Zoro.

His heart was probably going to burst.

“You bastard.”

“Huh?” Zoro questioned, and then Sanji grabbed at his shirt, pressing their lips together.

The fireworks he felt from the first kiss weren’t fake, confirmed because they were going off in the back of Sanji’s mind once more. He felt so alive, already needing air even when it hadn’t been more than ten seconds.

He wished he knew if it was appropriate to press closer, but it soon didn't matter because Zoro pulled back just to kiss him with more passion, pressing him against the window next to the door to continue kissing him.

Cheeks burning in embarrassment, hands awkwardly sliding up to Zoro's neck, heart winded from the kiss and so, so… in love.

The feelings Zoro forced from him.

-

It became a common occurrence for them to kiss when alone, especially after sneaking into the school and fighting for a match or two. It always ended with the two of them on the ground, either one pressed to the floor and rendered breathless. Sometimes Sanji couldn’t hold back from making noises—but school ghosts be damned, because he was almost eighteen and still a horny teenager. They were also both positive that there were no cameras—Robin having figured out there were only cameras at the front and back entrance and nowhere else in the school. It was no secret that the school was poor.

Sanji squirmed, gasping when Zoro sucked a hickey onto his neck. His hand flew up to the short green hair and he grabbed a handful, other one clutching the man’s back.

“Zoro,” Sanji said desperately, unsure what he was even asking for. All he knew was that he really wanted the person in his arms, and the moon out the window up above was full that night.

“Sanji,” Zoro replied, his hands exploring Sanji’s torso without any permission (not that he would’ve been denied, anyway).

He pulled back from Sanji, and the blond couldn’t even imagine what kind of image of debauchery he was, but when they locked eyes they both knew it wasn’t the time to take things further—no matter the want.

So all Zoro did was fall on top of Sanji, half suffocating the aspiring chef as he nuzzled his head in the crook of Sanji’s neck.

There were two months left of high school.

-

The hallway from the church to Romance Dawn was almost pitch black. They both didn’t know where the light switch was, even if they’d wanted light. The only form of light was that coming from the sliver under the doors, and the red EXIT sign atop a door on the other side of the hallway.

Sanji choked back his cries behind the crook of his arm, head accidentally banging against the wall he was pressing himself against to keep standing.

His other hand was once more fisted in Zoro’s hair, wanting to control the pace but knowing he’d just give up the reigns as soon as Zoro did that _thing_ with his tongue again. He should’ve expected Zoro’s jaw to have some type of endurance, what with the way he held kendo swords in between his teeth—but this was otherworldly.

Sanji was melting into a puddle of incoherence.

Of course, he returned the favour minutes later.

They were graduating next month.

-

“Zoro,” Sanji called, watching as the said man turned away from him to begin walking to his car. It was still a wonder how the dumbass could use a car. “Call me.”

Zoro raised an arm in goodbye, and the sight of his back reminded Sanji of everything that they'd been through the past three years. Their first fight, the scene of Zoro fighting Mihawk, the first time Zoro ate Sanji's cooking, their little deal because of Zoro's bad sense of direction, his kendo classes Sanji would sit through, and the cooking competitions Zoro would insist on going through. All the little phrases and signs that Zoro had directed towards him. That night of the summer trip, and then their first kiss. 

Sanji was in love, period.

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some comments if you liked this chapter :) Also, I hope this chapter wasn’t too abrupt with everything going on. I constantly went back and forth adding certain paragraphs and scenes to see what would work and evidently settled on this... Thanks for reading thus far! One more chapter to go, and possible some extras


	6. The Sound of Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years later brings Sanji and Zoro's exploration of the school, introducing reminiscent scenes and emotions that Sanji thought he'd gotten over. It's at this time that they figure out what their future will look like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! It's the last chapter! I'm so thankful for everyone who stuck around and encouraged me in the comments. I love you, and I loved writing this story. Hope you enjoy this!

Their footsteps echoed throughout the hallways as they walked, the muted sound of partying travelling to their ears even from on the other side of school. They passed by a multitude of classes—such as the band classes, the french wing classes (did Sanji ever mention that he excelled in all of his French classes?) and the couple of Christian Ethics designated classes. The two of them stopped in front of grad photos, counting down from the current year until finally reaching their own. As Sanji’s eyes flitted over all of the faces he familiarized with, he felt his heart squeeze at the sight of a 17-year old Zoro. Just his face brought back memories of times that Sanji treasured.

He stole a peek at the current Zoro, able to do so because of the cut on his eye that evidently acted as _some_ sort of blind spot. It was probably the third time he had checked out Zoro this night. First his overall front profile at the table in the gym, then his backside as they made their way inside, and now his side profile. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. It was like his eyes did it subconsciously, as if trying to scrape at pieces and differences of someone who’d always been, in his mind, a 17-year old.

But now they were both nearing 25, and his mind was catching up on the times, erasing certain thoughts and replacing them with this newer version of themselves. Like a phone update 7 years late.

They eventually got to the other side of the school, where they could hear the party going on just past the gym doors. They could have gone back to the party—it would have been the wiser choice, in hindsight—but instead Zoro seemed to have been drawn to the area next door.

Sanji followed when Zoro pushed open the door to the wrestling room, and the familiar smell of old mats and dust invaded his senses.

A flick of the light switch revealed that the only difference was a lengthy mirror plastered onto the right wall, and Sanji suspected that maybe some students liked to dance in their spare time, though the room didn’t seem that much more used than it had been when they were seniors.

“Fuck, this brings me back,” Sanji said, and his voice was a little raspy because he hadn’t spoken in the last fifteen or so minutes, and because of the fact that he felt as if he was breaking the peace with his words.

Zoro didn’t say anything, only stepping onto the mats in the middle of the room. Sanji watched out of the corner of his eye, approaching one of the lockers on the left wall just to have something to do. He didn’t have to find much to do, however, because Zoro soon turned to face Sanji, staring at him until the blond was forced to stare back.

“Wanna fight?” Zoro asked, and Sanji felt himself hesitate for _one, two, three_ seconds, in those moments wondering if it was the best thing to do for someone who fell in love with an idiot because of fighting. How would he feel during it? Would it be just like the fights he had recently? (He found himself a sparring bud by the name of Marco to keep his skills sharp.) Or would he find himself choked up, unable to move because this was the man he hadn’t seen in seven years after gradually falling deeper and deeper into a hole with the name _Love_? Or would it be the opposite, where he unleashed his anger because _fuck you, Zoro, fuck you for getting my hopes up and never doing anything about it_. The memories of all the times they spent in that exact room came rushing through his mind, and who would’ve known it would lead to _this_? The two of them, basically strangers to each other, first time having been in each other’s presence for the past 2,556 days.

He hadn’t realized that he was making a certain face—perhaps one that showed for a second how hurt he was, until Zoro raised an eyebrow and Sanji quickly reigned it all in, gathering it like a pile of marbles that kept slipping out of his grasp. He had to look away to keep his expression in check.

“Sure,” he tried to say as casually as he could, even when he was itching for a smoke from how anxious he was.

He almost had to force his legs over to the mats, telling himself that he’d just get through this one night and be fine with it all. Move on, finally. Understand that Zoro hadn’t died and he hadn’t somehow lost his memory, and the only reason he never reached out to Sanji was because he didn’t want to.

When he faced Zoro after the two of them shed their coats and any other bothersome accessories, the blond was afraid he couldn’t do it.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because Zoro executed the first move, swinging his fist faster than Sanji thought was humanly possible. He was glad that he’d been honing his skills with Marco, because he managed to dodge it, sending his kick right to Zoro’s middle in an attempt to finish things before the guy could pull any unexpected moves (he was always filled with them, if he was any bit the same as before). Instead, Zoro grabbed his ankle and pulled, a grunt of surprise leaving Sanji when he stumbled on one leg and found himself closer to Zoro than he wanted to be.

“Underestimating me so soon, cook?”

The blond just scowled, because Zoro was also just as infuriating with his stupid cocky grin and his stupid cocky use of the word “cook”.

He barely even realized when he easily settled back into the dynamic they’d had as teenagers, swearing back quickly and brashly, losing his cool and fighting Zoro just like he had before. The difference was in their skill, where Zoro’s strength and Sanji’s speed was multiplied compared to before, and their fighting became the definition of chaos. They each got blows in, Sanji connecting a few more but Zoro’s packing a harder result, their eyes narrowed in concentration as they focused on every move the other did.

Sanji noticed that it might’ve been that fact that made him so conscious of Zoro. The fact that he’d once been his so-called “enemy”, and he had to watch him at every second. As well as seeing his weaknesses, bad sides and idiotic moments, he also saw his soft spots, combined with the strange way he showed kindness and intuition. His heart squeezed.

 _You always get distracted mid-fight_ , Sanji suddenly recalled Marco saying, and then the words came right at him to punish, coming in the form of Zoro who landed a punch right to his gut, a moment just like this one flashing in Sanji’s mind, a weird taste of beef coming back to him in memory. The impact made him wheeze, and he could tell that Zoro hesitated because he managed to surprise the bastard with a kick to the man’s chest that knocked him back and nearly over. "Nearly", because he grabbed at Sanji but Sanji pulled back, unwilling to fall as well but only making matters worse as they now tipped the other way.

Sanji landed on his back with a _poof_ of the mat, hair splaying out when milliseconds later Zoro’s forearms came smashing down next to his head, thankfully stopping the full weight of a human-comparable-to-a-rock landing smack on him.

They were both panting and sweating, and Sanji hadn’t even realized that that much time had passed, the two of then seemingly agreeing to take a few seconds of breathing. Their compromising position was only revealed when Zoro lifted his head from where it was hanging, locking eyes with the blond who froze like a deer in headlights when met with the grey of the swordsman’s gaze.

Sanji’s brain was tempted to memorize every single bit of skin on Zoro’s face, but he couldn’t seem to break the eye contact they had, as if attached to it by an invisible force. Zoro seemed to be the same, until he was proved to be a tad bit braver when his stare started roaming over every inch of Sanji’s face, landing a few seconds too long on his lips. All the while Sanji, still dumbstruck, wondered how the hell Zoro _still—just like before—_ looked good under the ugly lighting. At this angle, with the light behind him, he seemed even more gorgeous than Sanji remembered, beads of sweat glinting like sparkles with the slightest of movement.

A change of music next door snapped Sanji out of his trance, his brain finally allowing himself to move, a shift of his legs suddenly indicating that one of Zoro’s had managed to land in between his own, bringing a blush onto his face that he’d deny for the rest of his life.

“Um,” Sanji spoke up, and then he used his palms to push himself higher, the greenhead taking the hint and pushing himself up and away with his forearms.

They rearranged and fixed themselves in the next few seconds, the chef managing to convince himself that the blush no doubt spreading from his chest all the way to his face was because of the heat.

Zoro tugged on the front of his tight-fitting white t-shirt, attempting to fan himself as he gazed somewhere else nonchalantly. It gave Sanji the opportunity to fully appreciate Zoro’s perfectly sculpted body. Which, for some reason, became presented to him like on a silver platter, seconds later when Zoro peeled off his shirt.

Sanji would ask _what the fuck_ he was doing, but that’d be revealing how flustered he was at the exposed expanse of tanned skin, shiny with sweat. Either way all words of complaint died in his throat when he saw a scar spanning Zoro’s front from his hip bone to his shoulder, diagonal and similar to the bruise he had the time he’d fought Mihawk as a kid.

Sanji nearly choked out, “That— _injury_.”

It looked as if it should have been a mortal wound.

Zoro tugged on his grey sweater ( _oh, he was taking off the shirt because it was just uncomfortable_ , Sanji noted) and then looked down at his chest as if he could still see the scar.

“I rematched Mihawk. Not that long after high school. Real swords this time. Lost again.”

Sanji clenched his fist, “You did the same thing didn’t you? Opened your arms and just took defeat when you realized you weren’t ready. You were ready to just die because you weren’t as good yet?”

“Bingo,” Zoro answered as if it was the easiest answer in the world, agitating Sanji even further.

But when he really thought about it, he should just be glad that Zoro was still in one piece. For all he knew of Mihawk’s skills, Zoro could be minced meat.

So Sanji just sighed, picking up his stuff and getting ready to leave the wrestling room. There were a few more places he wanted to see again, one of them especially being the upstairs where Sanji and Zoro spent so much time bickering and finding the stairs.

The lights were flicked off and the door to the room was closed again, Zoro following Sanji through the halls this time, coat and shirt in hand. Sanji got to the stairwell and pressed the handlebar in, but before he could get anywhere—he heard a loud beeping.

“No way,” Sanji said, looking up and seeing one of those little white things on the wall, beeping red. “Their alarms actually work now—?”

“Not the time, cook, isn’t this bad news?”

“Oh shit, yeah, yeah it’s bad news. The permission for the reunion was explicitly for the gym. We’d be in pretty big shit if—“

“Just shut up and run.” Zoro grabbed Sanji’s wrist and tugged, starting off in a different direction to run. Sanji snorted, mostly to himself, gaze glued on the back of Zoro’s head.

“We came from the other hallway, moron.”

“Didn’t I say _shut up_?” Zoro questioned, but he listened either way, running down the correct one this time, all while the alarms were going off. “It’s been too long since I’ve been here.”

“Oh yeah, _sure_ , that’s the problem.”

He could see Zoro’s scowl even without looking at his face. It made his amusement grander, and he felt as if he could finally breathe when the strange tension between them started dissipating.

Sanji could have easily ran without Zoro’s guidance. It probably would have been better, considering he kept taking wrong turns, but the warmth of Zoro’s hand on his wrist was clouding his judgement for what was efficient and what was not.

 _Fuck_ , Sanji thought, stare moving to Zoro’s overall back, _I’m not over it_.

-

Some people had left the gym to investigate what was up after the alarms turned off the music from the speakers, and Zoro and Sanji just stood on the other side of a corner, hearing people bicker and blame each other.

They also heard a (as usual) perfectly rational Robin saying: “Or maybe someone actually did go inside the school.” And then Nami’s groan when the redhead figured out it was the two dumbasses who ruined the party.

“Whatever,” they then heard Usopp say, “It wasn’t the best party anyway. You guys wanna hang at my place?”

They all agreed, and their group of friends promptly left, leaving the stragglers that Sanji and Zoro didn’t really have a care for, those people still arguing about who “ruined” the party and who would fix it.

It took a few minutes of Sanji smoking for the rest of the party-goers to file out of the gym and leave in groups and cars. The two of them were too busy eavesdropping to actually talk.

When all was silent again Sanji found himself chuckling at the absurdity of the situation. What else should've been expected from their reunion? Two overall troublemakers and a school that they used to break into all the time (that now had actual working alarms). The results could have been predicted ages ago. 

“This was your fault,” Sanji said.

“My fault?” Zoro questioned, “You wanted to go upstairs.”

“But you were the one who wanted to be a rebel in the first place.”

“I rebelled without getting us in _trouble_.” 

“Oh come on, you have to admit that your idea led us to this whole ordeal.”

“Or you’re just trying to push the blame onto someone who was only a bystander when the alarms went off.”

“I am not—!” Sanji stopped short, wondering why he seemingly hadn’t matured in the past 7 years. He swore he wasn’t so easily agitated by anyone else. Sanji sighed, taking a puff of his cigarette and leaning on the wall, admitting that: “We’re acting like kids.”

“You think we aren’t?” Zoro suddenly asked, and then Sanji raised an eyebrow, having to think for a second to understand what Zoro had just asked.

“If, like me, you were born 25 years ago—we _aren’t_.”

The blond watched as Zoro looked away, seeming almost contemplative as he stared off at some scenery in the distance.

“I think we’ll always be kids, somehow.”

Sanji tried to pinpoint what Zoro was focusing on, both with his eyes and with his thoughts.

“I don’t want to be,” the blond eventually admitted.

He could feel Zoro’s stare on him now.

“...You don’t?”

There seemed to be a double meaning behind the whole conversation they were having. A double meaning behind Zoro’s carefully articulated question. _Were_ they still kids? Did they still act like they used to— _feel_ like they used to? Did Sanji _want_ to feel that way?

Did Zoro?

“It’s been seven years, Zoro,” Sanji stated, and he finished his smoke, crushing it under his shoe as he nearly mumbled, “That’s seven years since I was supposed to be a grown-up. You’ve changed. I’ve changed. Everything has. Hell, I don’t even understand half the stuff teenagers are saying these days.”

“Who cares about what teenagers now are talking and thinking about. The only thing I care about is—“ Zoro stopped, like he realized that he was showing too much of his cards. Sanji knew that it was exactly that. He used to do that in the past too.

The silence that followed was suffocating, and Sanji kicked the gravel a little as he tried his hardest to think of something to say. Anything, even if it was awkward.

A thought in the back of his mind reminded him that this may very well be the last time he’d see Zoro. Ever.

The man would go back to living in Japan or whatever, and Sanji would go back to his life of cooking in the heart of this city.

He didn’t like the sound of that. It nearly pained him just thinking about Zoro leaving his grasp again, but what could he do? Their lives were only meant to cross a few times before going in opposite directions.

“...We probably shouldn’t be here,” Sanji speculated, “When alarms go off in schools don’t the police come or something?”

Zoro shrugged, back to his nearly wordless self. “There’s a park over there.”

(Sanji was glad Zoro hadn’t suggested they both go home.)

So they made their way over to the elementary school not even a block away, crossing the field to get to the playground once they saw it. On the walk there Sanji wondered what he could ask to drag this out as long as possible, what he could do to make sure this moment wasn’t wasted.

He came to the conclusion that he needed to try and remember as much as possible about Zoro before they parted ways for good.

“ _What have you been doing these past few years? Where have you been living?_ ”

Sanji settled himself onto one of the swings, Zoro standing and leaning against one of the support poles of the set.

“ _Is your end goal really still to be the greatest swordsman? How do you pay your bills?”_

He gained nearly no height to his swing, only bobbing back and forth as he stared in the sand, listening to answers that he tried to ingrain in his mind.

“ _Has your favourite food changed?_ _Do you still nap every other hour?_ ”

Sanji managed to ask all of those questions and he received answers for every one of them, sometimes curt and sometimes a little more elaborate. Zoro also tugged information out of him, as if thinking it was unfair that only Sanji was being enlightened. Sanji had revealed his plans for his restaurant, talked about how Zeff was still a pain in the ass, and how he was working as a sous-chef for his favourite chef that Zoro might have seen once or twice from his competitions.

He looked over at Zoro once his latest question had been answered, eyes flicking from the man's closed eyes to his crossed arms, and then to his boots, slightly sunken into the sand. The moon made him look serene.

Without opening his eyes, and without a warning, Zoro asked:

“And how’s your girlfriend?”

That sentence itself made Sanji freeze, and then he laughed, having to lean forward a little because of how it made his abs squeeze.

“Don’t have one,” he answered, _and it’s more your fault than anything else_ , Sanji refrained from saying.

“Really?” Zoro opened his one eye, piercing gaze set on Sanji. The blond was busted for staring. “Unexpected, with you being women thirsty all the time.”

“Oh come on,” Sanji deadpanned, “Just haven’t... found the right person.”

Silence. Again.

“And you?” Sanji breached the topic carefully, so as to help either himself or Zoro. “Have you found someone who’d tolerate your idiotic ways?”

A smirk suddenly appeared on Zoro’s face then, and Sanji felt his stomach plummet a little bit. He swallowed, looking away to avoid seeing Zoro when he knew the man was going to start talking about his new lover.

“I have.”

He stopped himself from gritting his teeth, hands instead clutching onto the chains of the swing ever so slightly harder. Sanji mentally braced himself for the conversation, still refusing to look at Zoro and instead focusing on the sand in front of him. “So what’s she like?” he started, and there was no real reason why he used “she”, but he felt as if using “he” was insinuating that he _knew_ something about Zoro. That perhaps he was saying that just because of him, Zoro only met with men afterward. It was something he couldn’t find himself saying, and so he kept to the generalized “guess”. “I hope some goddess didn’t fall into your trap.”

Zoro chuckled then, and Sanji felt incredibly jealous of whoever this was, a painful spike growing in his heart.

“They’re pretty fucking stupid.”

“Now look here—“ Sanji immediately started, accidentally making eye contact and having to turn away because of how affectionate Zoro’s eyes were. Even from that distance, Sanji could see the fondness. Still, he just got angry that Zoro would insult his partner so easily. “You’re always such a barbarian, could you not have some sense for once? How would she feel if she knew you were talking about her this way?”

“Well, he knows I’m saying this kind of stuff anyway.”

“Does that make it any—better... wait, _he_...?”

“What, does it disgust you?” Zoro questioned, and from his periphery, Sanji could see how Zoro tilted his head to the side, still staring at Sanji even if he wasn’t staring back.

 _Disgust me?_ Sanji questioned, _you_ know _it doesn’t, moron. You even experienced it._

In fact, Zoro’s words made him feel hot inside—from the combination of anger that Zoro would ever think he was a homophobe, and the fact that when he thought about Zoro, his mind always immediately supplied him images of Zoro with a woman. He for some reason always believed that Zoro would be dating girls. But it was stupid to think that he was Zoro’s only exception. That painted him as something important, which most likely wasn’t the case now that he (and it made him feel a mix of terrible and weirdly happy) knew now that Zoro preferred men overall.

“I could care less; about who you date,” Sanji lied, though not about the gender part.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Zoro rebutted, and Sanji finally grit his teeth then, turning to the man angrily.

“I’m not some homophobe. I know men can like men. _You_ even know that...”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What else would you mean, bastard? If it’s about the sexual part, I don’t care about that either.”

Zoro just rolled his eyes, and then he glanced off to where Sanji had been looking for the past couple of minutes.

“Still not what I mean. But, I do have a problem,” Zoro stated, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“I’m not some therapist you can just consult,” Sanji spat, still angry at what he believed was Zoro calling him a homophobe. He also felt a little gutted, at the fact that it was someone else dating Zoro.

Sanji stood from the swing, feeling slightly restless because of this new information and the usual, bastard-like way that Zoro was acting. He walked a few steps, getting to the first landing to climb onto the playground. Once he hoisted himself up, he patted his hands off on his pants, mapping out his next journey to get to the other side of the playground.

“I don’t care. I need your help.”

That piqued Sanji’s interest, because never in a million years would Zoro admit to something like that. He’d probably rather lose an arm than do that.

“With what,” Sanji said as more of a statement, turning to look at Zoro while trying not to reveal his cards of curiosity and actual worry.

Zoro repositioned so that he could face Sanji in his new position, and he looked way too smug for someone asking for help from another.

“I lost his number,” he said easily, and for the first moments, the words flew right over Sanji’s head.

“Well how the hell could I help with—” the blond paused when Zoro’s sentence actually processed through his mind, and a second later he felt a little weak in the knees.

But there was no way.

“See, I already told you he’s a fucking idiot, and he goes so far as to even put a number on a tiny piece of paper that I accidentally put in the wash with my pants.”

It was as if someone shot ice through Sanji's veins because even if he wanted to move—to _react_ , it was like he couldn't. It could have been another dream. Sanji had many of those, where he met with Zoro again and they figured out that they'd really liked each other and that they were willing to do it all over again. Every time, he was disappointed when he woke up to his white ceiling back at home, without Zoro anywhere in sight.

So now, _this_? Either his mind had mastered the way to trick him into thinking this was reality, or they were both dumbasses and this was actually happening. 

He hoped he was subtle when he pressed his nails into his palm to check if he could feel pain. And there it was. A pain that was nearly invisible because of the sheer amount of thoughts and feelings processing through his mind, but it was there, nonetheless. And Zoro was there, looking, waiting, for _Sanji_.

And though he wanted to believe that was what happened, after having his trust broken as a child early on, it was difficult to do so.

”...You think I’ll just believe that?” Sanji questioned, and Zoro’s smug face soon turned to one of confusion. “Seven. Years, Zoro. You’re talking as if you’ve liked me for that long and yet this is the first time we’ve talked in that time—and for what reason? You lost the piece of paper that I gave you to the wash? I call _bullshit_ ,” he spat.

He couldn’t simply believe that Zoro actually meant to call him, after all of this.

”So, what is it, really?” the blond asked, “Are you looking for a quick one night stand? Or perhaps you’re reaching your midlife crisis a little early and you’ve realized there’s no one else on this earth who likes you but me?” 

“Cook—“

”It’s fucking _chef,_ asshole!” Sanji yelled, and he realized then that he hadn’t let up on the pressure of his nails, his palm stinging and his eyes mimicking the feeling because of the prick of tears. And then he just went off. “You know how long I waited for that call? How many hours I spent just thinking of you? I couldn’t find it in myself to be the one to call because I thought you didn’t care anymore. That I’d be an annoyance if I bothered calling you at all.” His fists were shaking, and he’d never felt so simultaneously exposed and guarded at the same time. “It was me who initiated it all, in the beginning. I had no way of knowing if you actually wanted whatever we did or if it was all just convenience and pity from your part.” 

“Are you fucking stupid?”

”Yeah, I’m _fucking stupid_!” Sanji exclaimed, “And it’s only because, even now...” All of his moments with Zoro flashed through his mind, and he knew he might’ve been looking behind pink-stained glasses but they all resonated in him as precious memories that he couldn’t let go of. “I still want you,” he confessed, and he understood why Zoro looked shocked. Anyone would be, after getting grilled and then all of a sudden confessed to. But he couldn’t help it. It was the truth, after all. He’d wanted this relationship to work from the get-go, had been wanting it to work for the last you-know-how-long. 

Zoro’s words could all be a hoax and Sanji could ruin himself for good, but he was strangely willing to take that leap.

”...So prove it,” Sanji finished, “Prove that you’re not just looking for some fling.” 

He kept his gaze on Zoro, defiant, even if he knew he’d most likely crumble with whatever words Zoro would say next. Zoro seemed angry, in a way where Sanji knew he was holding back. 

“I can’t believe you’re as stubborn as this, cook. What is there to prove? If me kissing you and skipping classes for your weird cooking competitions isn’t enough to show you exactly how I felt, I’m not sure what would,” Zoro stated, “Or visiting the hospital every day for a month when your dumb ass had to get hurt in soccer, explaining to the teachers why you had nosebleeds every other day, hating myself for letting the one chance I had with you slip through my fingers, and keeping this hope that maybe you’d known how much I wanted this to work.” 

“You... what?” 

“Yeah, honestly fuck me, for not trying harder,” Zoro said, and then he raised a hand to wipe at his face. Sanji had never seen Zoro look so distressed. “Funny how the one thing you want is the only thing you can’t fix, especially after getting split open like a fish and somehow sewn back together.”

”Zoro...”

”I’m sorry that I couldn’t show you that I liked you, and I’m sorry that I let life take us both away. I shouldn’t have, and I get it if you actually really don’t want this to happen anymore. Just...” the man reached into his pocket, and then, a sight Sanji couldn’t believe. 

Sanji’s hand flew up to his mouth, gaze unable to move from the crumpled paper that held so much significance, lying in Zoro’s roughed up hand with a mesh of incomprehensible ink.

”At least rewrite your phone number, so I can finally figure out what numbers have been taunting me for what seems like forever. I won’t do anything with it if you don’t want me to.”

At the sight of the scrap paper he’d given to Zoro, which—other than being put in the wash—seemed to have been taken care of for the past seven years, Sanji felt as if there was no way Zoro could be lying. The dumbass kept the paper even though there was nothing he could use on there. He had it lying in his pocket as if he brought it with him everywhere he went, and it looked as if he attempted to smooth it out as much as possible but had failed to do so. Sanji wondered what the paper had seen. Had Zoro sat down with it and attempted to solve the puzzle that was Sanji’s phone number? Did he stare at it as often as Sanji had stared at his own phone, hoping for some miracle to happen? Sanji gazed into Zoro’s eye and he could tell then that those moments did happen—there was no way they didn’t, with how much Zoro’s mere stare was conveying. It was sadness and anger and fondness all in one. Sanji knew that if he could look into his own eye he would see the same.

Sanji managed to open his mouth to speak but he couldn’t say anything, feeling both relief and happiness flood through him like water from a broken dam, telling him that it really _had_ been something dumb that separated them. And then he remembered what Zoro was talking about—and completely forgot about the fact he called him fucking stupid, instead focusing on the fact that Zoro was talking about _him,_ with that fond look in his eyes. Saying that it was Sanji who took all of his bullshit (he didn’t really, because he usually fought back but it still made his heart flutter), and that Zoro said he’d _found_ someone with such assurance that it seemed as if the past seven years, he’d just been waiting to see Sanji again.

“I really meant to call you,” Zoro suddenly confessed, “But I literally just... couldn’t. And Nami, she didn’t have your number—and then Japan...”

“So you just... couldn’t? That’s it?” Sanji wanted to confirm that Zoro had _wanted_ to, that he’d meant to call Sanji and have them meet up and perhaps... _do_ something about their relationship that’d been left as a single question mark in Sanji’s mind.

Zoro nodded.

Sanji didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do, either. He just wanted to make up all the lost time between them and he was willing to spend the rest of his life to do it. He’d never realized how deep he was until now.

So he said, moments before he made any move, “You’re the stupid one if you think I don’t want you now.” 

He closed the distance between them in seconds, his feet propelling him off the structure and back to the sand, nearly falling before he grabbed the front of Zoro’s sweater with both hands to pull him into a kiss. A long-awaiting, seven-years-late kiss. It felt exhilarating. It felt like everything he had been waiting for, and everything that he'd been feeling for the past seven years. Like it was what he needed to feel alive again.

Sanji could tell that Zoro dropped the piece of paper on the ground so that he could place his hands on Sanji’s waist, pulling him closer as their lips melded together.

He wouldn't be needing that piece of paper anymore.

As high schoolers, their kisses were inexperienced and fuelled by passion, nearly clumsy because of how much they wanted to simply feel the other. Now, they each had experience (Sanji with relationships that never lasted more than three months, and Zoro with one night stands), though the passion was the same, a flame starting in each of their guts.

Sanji moaned as his fingers wound into Zoro’s hair, trying to press closer when Zoro took the invitation to start exploring his mouth with his tongue. Zoro was a good kisser, Sanji speculated. He would be a liar if he said he wasn’t melting into the swordsman’s embrace as seconds ticked by. Even more so when Zoro’s hand found the back of Sanji’s head, and his other hand slid up his back almost comfortingly. 

Everything still felt surreal, because here he was, kissing the man that he'd had countless thoughts of ever since he was a gangly teenager who had no idea what the future held for him. The 18-year old who finished high school with hopes of having his own restaurant side-by-side with the new greatest swordsman was still there somewhere, Sanji was sure, but it was him now—25, with a plan for his future and currently kissing the man of his dreams—that was calling the shots. With this, it was as if he was shedding off any remnants of his teenage self, because there was nothing holding him back. 

Zoro's hand eventually cupped the side of Sanji's face, and the latter's heart just swelled with unreasonable amounts of happiness.

Sadly, there wasn’t much they could (or were willing to do) in an elementary playground, so the two separated seconds later, foreheads pressed together as they panted.

Sanji didn’t know why it was needed but he felt butterflies when Zoro pulled back just slightly to press a kiss onto his forehead—and he was sure if he asked Zoro about the meaning the man would just shrug and say he “felt like it”. The thought brought a smile onto his face, and then he felt himself regretting missing out on all stupid moments Zoro could have had over the last years.

”I’m sorry,” Zoro said once more, and Sanji shook his head.

“I’m sorry that I never reached out,” Sanji mumbled, fingers finding the strings on Zoro’s hoodie to fiddle with.

“It’s fine.”

“Is it, really? There’s so much we’ve missed.”

“It is,” Zoro stated, and then he slid his hand down Sanji’s arm to grab his hand. “What’s seven years over the rest of our lives?”

Sanji couldn’t hold back his smile, forehead falling onto Zoro’s shoulder. “Poetic bastard.”

He closed his eyes, taking in Zoro’s warmth, his presence, his smell, the feel of his fingers intertwining with his own, and the steady breathing that Sanji could minutely feel.

He remembered thinking, earlier that night.

_Some chapters in life just closed with unsatisfying ends._

“You wanna come over? It’s rather lonely at my place without a nagging old geezer,” Sanji offered.

“Yeah, I haven’t found a hotel to stay at yet,” Zoro accepted, but then he pulled away from Sanji, “Just to be clear...”

_And no matter how hard someone tried to pry it back open, they’d only realize that there were no more empty pages, and the ink that rested on every piece was irreversible._

“Clear about what?”

Zoro’s eye seemingly searched Sanji’s face, and when he seemed satisfied, he answered.

“I did all of this because I like you, Sanji.”

Sanji’s face flushed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time this night, but he felt more happy than embarrassed.

“I know that now, you idiot greenhead. You kept that scrap piece of paper for seven years.”

“Just making sure.”

Sanji rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah.” 

_Sanji, that night, had been in the midst of realizing that._

“You’re not gonna say it back?”

“Just fucking wait, marimo! There’s a time for these sorts of things. A _time_.”

Exasperated, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s hand, tugging him off to where they came from to get back to their cars. It was funny, but he could tell Zoro was brooding (or pouting) as he trudged behind him.

There was a time for those sorts of things.

Like now, just because Sanji liked to tease him.

He turned just enough to see Zoro when they were halfway through the field, looking at this new version of a person he’d fallen so deeply for. But it didn’t matter which “version” was standing before him, because Sanji was sure he’d feel the same in the end. This was still the Zoro who had fought with him like a cat would with a dog; the same Zoro who got lost in the hallways and made deals with him to find the stairs; the same Zoro who subtly cheered him up when he had fights with Zeff; gotten beaten by Mihawk just to work harder; came to his soccer games and cooking competitions; stolen his first kiss and his only heart.

“Oi, Zoro.”

Zoro looked up from where he was observing the grass they walked on, and then Sanji grinned.

“I love you.”

A new chapter had just started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I edited this a little bit!!)  
> I've already said this but thank you so so much for reading this work. (Incoming sort of unnecessarily deep paragraph.) I kind of took a leap of faith with this story (and to be honest, One Piece stories in general) after quitting writing for another fandom, and I'm just so happy that this community is so welcoming and encouraging. I still have a fear of publishing long chapter books after not finishing some of them on a different account—which is why you can see that my list of works consists of one shots, drabble and this semi-long but intended to be a three chaptered story—so yeah. I'm so glad many of you have expressed your feelings for this fanfic and it just makes me so warm. I'm hoping to publish more Zosan fics and seeing you guys in those comments too, so I'm praying you're just as excited as me! Buhbye!


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